Prey in Our Midst
by Wolfy101
Summary: She has a dangerous past. But Brooklyn is about to find out how far they will go to save the Prey in Their Midst. SpotOC Better then it sounds!
1. Running

**Title: Prey in our Midst**

**Rated: T**

**Summary: She has a dangerous past. But Brooklyn is about to find out how far they will go to save the prey in their midst. SpotOC**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any characters you recognize!!!**

**NOTE!!!!! I am making Spot TALLER for this story! He is as tall as Cowboy and Davey.**

**Thanx!! That's all!!!**

**Chapter 1: Running**

* * *

He was going to kill me.

Seriously kill me.

The closest thing I had ever had to family was now tracking me through the streets of Manhattan.

My chest is heaving, and my breath is rasping like sand paper down my throat. My eyesight was blurry, and the cold streets were filled with fog.

Suddenly I pitched forward, my boot catching on something as the surface I was running on changed beneath me.

Both of my hands reached out as my legs buckled. Instant pain.

I had to keep going. I had to stand up. It took me three tries to get my exhausted legs to hold my weight, and I really wasn't that heavy.

How?

How had this happened?

One minute I'm working, just the way I should be, then everywhere I turn, there are bloodthirsty eyes.

This is why I had wanted out.

I pause to listen, but stumble back into a run when all I can here is the pounding of my heart and the rasps of my breath.

Well, at least I'm still breathing, no matter how much it aches to do so. After a time that feels like forever, but could have been a few seconds, the surface changes again. I don't trip this time, but it's a struggle top remain on me feet anyway.

I have to find somewhere. Somewhere to hide for just an hour or so. The adrenalin that had kept me going for this long had begun to fade when I fell. All I had left was fear. And from what I was running from, fear was more then enough for at least another mile.

After that…who knew?

The buildings around me reared up, dodging from one ally to another, I was soon completely lost. Hopefully anyone chasing me was too.

It must be early morning, one, maybe two. All the streetlamps were flickering weakly, but the houses were very dark.

I turned down a dim alleyway, right behind a dying streetlamp. It was in between to old brick buildings; around the corner, water was lapping.

Changing road surfaces.

Water.

The docks.

My entire body froze.

Brooklyn.

I was in Brooklyn.

Heaven save me. It might be too late though: I was as close to hell as you get in New York.

Sighing, I collapsed in the ally mouth, no longer able to stand. My eyes closed, and slowly, one type of darkness faded into another.

- -

"What the hell?!"

"What did you eat yesterday, Nails?!"

"God help me!"

"Air! I can't breath!"

"Christ! Spot! Are you alright? Nails, you almost killed the King of Brooklyn!!"

I opened my eyes, everything sore from sleeping a few hours in the hard ground, and the flight yesterday.

My body went into hyper drive. I leapt to my feet, looking for the source of the shouting voices.

Above me in the alleyway, a fire escape was quickly filling as barley dressed teenaged boys tumbled out a window. Some how I didn't think they were racing out to catch the sunrise.

Already two boys were dropping down the metal structure, almost on ground level. On of them glanced down, and our eyes met.

Steel blue. Molten silver. The sky reflected off snow. Storm clouds and lightning. Liquid Mercury. All of it was trapped in the eyes that seared my soul in that moment.

And I knew what those stunning eyes saw.

A petite 17 year old girl, her long hair tangled down her back, the color of late autumn leaves. Her once white dress smeared with dirt and ripped at the hem. Red splatters on it resembled blood. A cut on her pale cheek, dried blood dripping down from it, onto a long neck with bruises that resembled fingerprints. And in the moss green of the girl's eyes, among the streaks of yellow and gold, the blue eyes would see one emotion triumph above them all.

Haunted fear.

The fear of a hunted animal.

The instinct to stay alive.

I turned, and tried to run. I could hear the voices stopping as one by one the boys noticed me. Then they began again, but this time calling out to me.

Calling for me to stop.

Then I heard a whoop.

"Go Spot! Get her!"

One of them was following me. And in my present state, he would catch me. My legs ached and my ankles hurt. The muscles in my calves protested ever step vehemently, and my backside had never hurt this much.

A hand grabbed my wrist, and I was pulled up short, whipped around by someone about a head taller then I was.

I closed my eyes, pushing as hard as I could against my captor's grasp.

"Look at me."

A simple command, but one I would not obey. I opened my eyes, but looked resolutely around the man's shoulder, and was not heartened by what I saw.

The boys on the ladder had followed us. Still more were pouring out of the alley and the front door of the brick warehouse.

My eyes zeroed in on the sign above the door.

'Newsboys Lodging House'

Oh God.

All these boys were part of the famous Brooklyn Newsies. They were notorious for being tough and mean. These boys were like a family; you mess with one, you face them all. The strike this summer would have been nothing if not for the Brooklyn Newsies.

And here I am, right in the middle of their sacred turf.

They were all staring at me, curiosity and alarm mixed in their eyes. I would look at me the same way if I were them.

"Look at me."

That simple command again.

"Please."

My voice was soft, but still painful coming out of my bruised throat.

"Please, just let me go."

"Naw. Brooklyn ain't safe ta walk alone."

I did look up then, more out of shock then anything else.

Those eyes.

I was falling into the eyes I had seen on the fire escape. He was the one closest to the ground, it made sense that he was the first one to catch up with me.

It was almost winter. The air was cold, and storm clouds were rolling over Manhattan. They would be here soon.

"Where do ya live? One of us will walk ya home."

It was strange. This Newsie was being kind to me, after all I had been through, all I had done. He was completely ignoring the state I was in. More interested in getting me off the street, home, then getting me fixed up.

How strangely gallant.

Hysterical. I was hysterical. I began to laugh, it sounded slightly mad. There were tears in my eyes, but the bitter laughter didn't stop.

Blue eyes narrowed slightly in surprise and confusion.

"Home?"

My voice bounced off the buildings. Loud and harsh.

"Home is where they did this to me."

I ripped away from him then, holding up the folds of my dress as I raced down the street. Pain was momentarily forgotten as thunder peeled overhead. Dark storm clouds blotting out the blue sky and rising sun. I made a right down an alleyway, dodging around the sleeping homeless onto another deserted main street. With a storm brewing, everyone was inside, coming up with an excuse not to go out.

As I ran time melted into nothing more then the breaths I took and the sound of my boots hitting the pavement. It was raining at random intervals. Look down a street on the left and there would be sun, but it was raining a street down on the right.

I had no sense of direction, I just did my best to stay one street corner ahead of the pelting icy water.

But after a while even that became impossible. The pain from before set back in. Sharp spikes in my head and dull aches in my back and shoulders. My legs were on fire and my feet were lead.

Maybe it would be a relief if they found me.

Death had never been as terrifying to me as Brooklyn and considering it was a choice between the two, I was leaning heavily toward death.

Or maybe I was just leaning in general.

It turned out I was doing just that. Standing in the middle of the empty road, the rain plastering my dress and hair to my back, swaying.

What had I just been thinking?

Darkness began to flutter at the edge of my vision.

Where was I?

I watched from what seemed like a great distance as I dropped to my knees.

Oh forget it.

I closed my eyes, and let darkness claim me.

**

* * *

**

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	2. Found

**Title: Prey in our Midst**

**Rated: T**

**Summary: She has a dangerous past. But Brooklyn is about to find out how far they will go to save the prey in their midst. SpotOC**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any characters you recognize!!!**

**NOTE!!!!! I am making Spot TALLER for this story! He is as tall as Cowboy and Davey.**

**Thanx!! That's all!!!**

**Chapter 2: Found**

* * *

"Spot?"

"Huh?"

"I asked what we were gonna do today."

"Well, it's hardly worth selling papes in this weather is it?"

The Newsie leader sat on the stoop in front of the boarding house, watching the rain with his piercing eyes.

The three boys milling in the open doorway behind him shifted their weight, glancing at each other.

He smirked at their obvious unrest.

"You have something to say?"

The three had a slight squabble, then the black haired teen was shoved ahead of his mates. He looked back at them, but they waved their hands and motioned for him to go on.

"Um, Spot…some of the guys and me, uh, we was wondering. Uh…do…do ya think she's still out their somewhere? You know…that girl. Out in the rain, I mean…alone?"

The seated man just stared out at the empty street. He had been wondering the same thing.

"You three look after the younger lads. A few of em get scared of heavy storms."

"Whoa, wait! Where are you goin?"

The boy stood without looking back, shoving one hand in his pocket as the other retrieved his black and gold cane.

"Walking."

Then he was gone, only a silhouette on the rain soaked streets as the three Newsies stared after him. One by one turning back towards the inner rooms, to tell the others he was off again.

The rain dripped down his back as his cane clacked rhythmically as he walked. He turned down the same street the woman from earlier had, following her most probable course. The way she had looked, the way she had spoken, the fear in her eyes.

He understood the law of the fist. He had helped create it. He was perfectly fine with women fighting, as long as they knew how.

But this girl.

Someone had beat her. Someone had set her running alone through the streets of Brooklyn. She may even have come from Manhattan.

"_Home? Home is where they did this to me!"_

A Father? A Brother? Uncle, Cousin?

Did she deserve it?

He doubted it.

Now she was out here, in the rain. Or, if she was unlucky, someone already grabbed her from the streets. She was better looking then most street women and in this weather, with no one looking for her, no one would hear her screams.

Without realizing it, his steps had sped up. He was practically running through the freezing needles of rain, searching for the outline of a white dress, or a flash of red hair.

He ran past the open mouth of an empty street, then stopped and went back, peering down it.

His piercing gaze could just make out the shape of something about halfway down. Spot cautiously walked toward it, his gait speeding when he saw that it was a female, her uncommon shade of hair pooled around her on the muddy road.

The King of Brooklyn nudged her gently with the tip of his gold cane.

The woman didn't stir.

With a sigh, he slipped his cane through his belt loop and crouched down, gathering her into his embrace.

She was small and light, he was surprised how right it felt to hold her against his chest as he stood.

Glancing left and right, he strode through the rain, back the way he had come.

**

* * *

**

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	3. Meeting Brooklyn

**Title: Prey in our Midst**

**Rated: T**

**Summary: She has a dangerous past. But Brooklyn is about to find out how far they will go to save the prey in their midst. SpotOC**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any characters you recognize!!!**

**NOTE!!!!! I am making Spot TALLER for this story! He is as tall as Cowboy and Davey.**

**Thanx!! That's all!!!**

**Chapter 3: Meeting Brooklyn**

* * *

It was dark when I woke up. Or maybe it was just because I had my eyes closed. Everything was stiff and sore, and I didn't want to move.

Slowly, a few things became apparent through the fog blanketing my mind.

I was warm,

I was damp,

I was wrapped in something,

And I was defiantly no longer out in the street.

Quietly, I allowed one eye to open.

Okay, it wasn't dark. It was actually blindingly bright out.

Blinking, I gave my green eyes a few moments to adjust.

I was on a bed in a room full of bunks. On my left side was a window that led out to a rusty fire escape. I was wrapped tightly in a large towel, it smelt slightly stale and moldy, but it was warm.

As my eyes analyzed the room, I found that I was not alone.

A small boy, no more then seven, was hovering halfway out the doorway across the large room. His shorts were tattered and his shirt was stained, but he didn't look starved and his hair was messy in a sweet way.

His large brown eyes were glancing from me into the hallway beyond where he was standing. We simply looked at each other.

"Stay here."

His voice wasn't very confident, and he turned back right before stepping out of my vision, indecision on his little face.

"Please."

Then he was gone around the doorjamb, and I was alone.

Well, something new every day.

I began to squirm slightly, trying to loosen the towel around me. My dress underneath was caked with dirt, but my hands and arms were clean.

I stood shakily, and found that there was barley room.

The place was a tip.

Clothes, newspapers, bric-a-bracs, and nick knacks were spread everywhere. The beds were in disarray, and there were dried puddles of mud showing where a whole army of people had tramped around in dirty boots. Most of them around my bed.

Oh joy. I had been on display in my sleep.

Cheers.

There was another doorway off the room I was in, leading to another full of sinks and cracked mirrors. I slowly made my way to one, ignoring the mess the inhabitants had made of this washroom.

Expecting the worst, I stepped up to the closest one, surprised by my reflection.

Someone had also wiped off the dirt on my face, and the gash on my cheek had been cleaned for the first time since I had received it.

My hair was brushed back, someone had attempted to clean it, but had not succeeded. Chunks of it were still stuck together with mud, while it was so tangled it seemed to have shortened by an inch.

I sighed wistfully.

Every since I was a small child I had loved my hair more then any other part of me. It's silken strands and red coloring had been the only soft and colorful things in my life for my younger years.

Until Warren found me.

A shudder ran through me as I gingerly reached up, brushing my fingertips over the ugly purple bruises on my neck.

They bore his fingerprints.

The closest thing to a father I had ever had. But now, looking back, I could see that I was nothing more then convenient to him. A little girl desperate to be cared for, even if the care was conditional. As long as he needed me, I served him without question.

I was a fool, I counted myself luck that he fed his more adult lusts with Hinny. Treating me always as a doll. His finest trained pet.

"You still here?"

A male voice came softly from the other room. It was gentle and friendly.

But I had been fooled by that before.

Cautiously, I peered into the other room.

The small boy was back, his face a picture of annoyance. Behind him was a taller man, dressed in much the same way. His black hair was a mass of curls, tumbling into his boyish face and chocolate eyes.

"I asked her to stay here."

The smaller boy pouted slightly, walking over to the bed I had occupied until late.

"It's alrigh' Haru, maybe she was late for a date?"

The taller man grinned and ruffled the smaller ones hair, but his eyes scanned the room.

"Oh, I have at least an hour before I'll be missed."

They both jumped, turning to stare at where I stood in the washroom doorway.

I felt my face pulling into the horrible smile. The bright, sweet one that I had been trained to use whenever in doubt.

Dogs were trained to play dead, I was trained to play friendly.

What's worse is that I'm good at it. Both boys visibly relaxed slightly, smiling back.

Ugh.

"We thought you'd made a run for it again."

"I would have if I thought I could get down that fire escape dressed like this."

My tone reassured them of the joke, and their smiles widened. Then the older one quickly grew serious, his eyes concerned.

"How are you feeling? Spot said he found you collapsed in the street."

Spot? Collapsed?

"I'm afraid I really don't remember anything after running away from the Newsboys."

"Ah."

The older one rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding mine.

"But, we're Newsies."

That stopped me.

"_Go Spot! Get her!"_

Blue eyes.

Spot.

Newsies.

Oh Good Heavens.

"Really?"

The older one nodded, looking slightly guilty.

"I'm so sorry to have imposed myself. It was wonderfully kind of all of you to take me in, but I really don't want to be any more of a hassle."

Both of them looked at me for a second then. The younger one looked back at the older one, eyes pleading.

"Wha's your name?"

"Depends. What's yours?"

The curly haired one was obviously surprised by my answer, quickly covering it up with another smile.

"Corkscrew."

"Cus of his hair."

The younger one stuck in, a comment that made me duck my head to keep from laughing. Finally he sounded his age.

"And who are you?"

The smaller boy gave me a smile, happy I was addressing him.

"Haru."

"Cus he wanted to make one up himself."

Once again I had to hold back laughter as Haru attempted to hit Corkscrew, but only succeeded in spinning in a circle, getting nothing but air.

"Do we get your name now?"

Nicknames.

They had given me nicknames. I ran through the list of things Warren and Hinny had called me over the last few years, trying to remember the reasoning behind each. But I didn't want to tell them any of those names. Those names would tie me to the life I was trying to forget.

My real name it was then.

"I'm Brandy."

Corkscrew smiled at me.

"Well Brandy, before you leave us, how about a meal?"

It was only then I realized just how starving I was.

But still…

"Oh no. I really couldn't. I don't have very much money, and I couldn't go anywhere looking like this. Thank you so much, but I have to decline."

"Nonsense! If there's something the Newsies do well, it's buy food for pretty girls. Besides, Spot already sent Indy to Medda."

He turned to look back at the door as if expecting something to suddenly appear there.

"He should be back any time now. Haru, go check."

"Why can't you go?"

"I'm older."

"Exactly."

The two just stared at each other.

"If you two really want to stay here, I can go."

The tension broke after a stunned silence as the two laughed.

"I think that might defeat the point."

I blushed slightly as Corkscrew smiled at me, waggling his eyebrows.

A door opened loudly downstairs, and a loud group of voices floated up to us.

They were all male.

"Here come the troops."

Corkscrew sighed.

I felt my eyes widen.

Why were all the voices male? There had to be female Newsies.

I racked my brain, trying to remember one.

Not a single thing came to mind.

In New York women and girls were given jobs that only they could do. Nannies, teachers, seamstresses, organizers, decorators, maids, governesses and hundreds others. Usually they were given jobs long before they had to consider selling papes.

The voices were in the hallway now. I could just make out snippets of conversation.

"Do you think she's a runaway?"

"Why can't we all go in?"

"What did Medda say?"

"Are they nice?"

"What did Spot say, _exactly_?"

"You're on my foot!"

"I didn't get to see her."

"Does anyone care what I think?"

"Oh shut up!"

"Get out of my way!"

Corkscrew was shaking his head, a small smile on his lips.

Haru walked over to me, looking up at me, his eyes bright.

"They're jus jealous cus Spot told me an Cork to watch you while they had to stay downstairs."

The small boy was obviously wonderfully proud of this fact, and I gave him a gentle smile, reaching out and gently rearranging the cowlick in his hair.

He blushed slightly, but didn't bat my hand away.

I had always wanted a sibling. Girl or boy, older or younger. It had been a dear dream of mine since I was much younger then him.

All the people Warren and Hinny worked with had been in their late twenties. Thugs that, despite his twisted soul, Warren had kept me separated from whenever he could.

Thugs like the Delacey brothers.

I had always hated the way they had looked at me. The way that during the strike they had offered to pay Warren to help them beat up the Newsies in Manhattan.

I hated Warren even more for offering to do it for free.

What would they think if they knew?

The closest thing I had to family had tried to beat down unarmed children…as well as other things.

I was jolted back to reality when the door was thrown open, and a boy holding a brown package shoved his way in, fighting to close the door on the group of men trying to shove their way in.

"Jeez. That was an exercise."

"Hey Indy."

"Hey Cork."

The two teens spit shook, and I took in the latest addition to the room.

Indy had dark coco skin and dark brown hair that matched his eyes. His bright white teeth stood out as he smiled widely. He wasn't fat, but he was solid. Definitely solid.

"Hello Haru!"

The small boy gave a wave from where he was standing by my side. He didn't seem to be moving any time soon. I found it comforting to have someone beside me, small or otherwise.

"And who is this? Sleeping Beauty awakes?"

"Indy, this is Brandy. I was just offering to take her for a bite when you appeared."

The darker boy adjusted the parcel he was carrying and held out his hand to me.

"My timeliness does me proud again!"

I took his hand, it was larger then mine, dry and warm.

"A pleasure to meet you."

"I doubt it, but it's sweet of you to say so."

I smiled, happy that this one wasn't forced.

"Now, let's see what Medda packed for you."

I looked at Cork and then at Haru, wondering if I should know who Medda was.

"Pardon?"

"Huh?," Indy was busy untying the yarn on the package.

"Oh, Spot knew you wouldn't want to run around in that dress in the state it's in, so he sent me to Medda with a rough idea of what size you were. She has all of those costumes and things, so we figured she would have something to put you in. She was really mad at me though. Apparently, 'she's skinny and about a few inches shorter then me' isn't the way to find a dress for a girl."

As Indy was talking, Cork had gone over to him, pulling as knife from his boot to cut the string. Inside the package was an array of skirts and blouses. There was also a pair of stockings and, to my relief, a sturdy looking hair comb.

"So, we'll step out, and you can come out when you feel up to it."

With that the three left, Haru loudly protesting.

For a few seconds I just stood where I was, looking at the closed door.

This was strange.

Extremely strange.

With a sigh I picked my way over to the bed. I had a purpose now; to get dressed in something clean.

Whoever this Medda was, I owed her a lot. There was every type of fabric and style, though most were nothing like I would have worn back…well, back where I used to live. There were clothes that almost looked like they were made for a boy, and skirts with ruffles and laces. Blouses for ever chest size, and a few for every stomach size too.

In the end, I cautiously made my way to the door in my black boots, and a full skirt. It rustled when I walked, and was vibrant orange at the top, but faded to almost brown at the hem. The blouse was plain, with loose sleeves that crimped tightly at my wrists, while the collar was stitched with the same orange thread as the skirt.

My hair I had washed as best I could in the basin, and used the towel from before to dry it. I wrestled with a few of the knots, but decided it wasn't worth the pain yet, so I pulled it up in a messy bun before folding all the rest of the clothes and placing them back in the package.

Taking a steadying breath, I opened the door, and stepped out onto a wooden landing on the third story of a building. The hand rail was broken in some places, and the floor was covered in dirt.

In the dirt though was the imprints of hundreds of feet, running this way and that. Every shape and size, some even bare footed! The hallway seemed bright, and laughter seemed to echo from the walls, a constant chatter rising up from the floor below.

At the both ends of the hall there was a staircase, one going up and one going down. I slowly made my way toward the one leading down, peering over the rail onto the hallways below. Boys of all shapes and sizes were lounging around, a constant flow was entering and exiting through the front and back doors, a few even swung in and out through windows.

I remained unnoticed at the end of the landing for a minute or two, searching below me for a sign of Indy and Corkscrew. Finally, to my great relief, Haru popped from the figures with their backs to me at the base of stairs.

"Brandy!"

At his happy shout, the hall below me went quiet, everyone turning to look at me. I fought the blush creeping up my neck, and the impulse to turn tail. But it was a strong impulse. I was about to spin on my heel and make a run for it when there was a slight breath of air shifting behind me.

I spun. And there were those eyes again.

I was so startled I took a step back, and found there was a step behind me. I reached out both my hands, a gasp escaping my throat. The surprise in the blue eyes matched my own. A pair of arm encircled me and I was crushed against a firm chest.

"Hello."

There was a mocking humor in the voice, I could hear it rumbling from the chest my head was pressed against.

"Hi."

I knew it came out on a breath, soft and gentle, but I truly didn't mind. I was just grateful not to have fallen.

"May I ask how many times I'm going to have to save you before I learn your name?"

There was an arrogance I had never heard before in the voice. It made something in me rise up and want to be rude and sarcastic to who ever it was that was still holding me.

"My name in Brandy. And while I am very grateful for your help, I would like to be released now."

My voice was stronger, I heard snickers as the closer boys heard it.

"Ah, but of course."

The arms around me dropped quickly, surprising me so much I found myself teetering on the edge of the step again.

Thankfully a familiar voice came from behind me as a hand came out to steady me.

"Now Spot, that wasn't very kind."

Corkscrew was one step below me, his eyes glittering amiably.

"She asked for it."

"I asked to be let go, not tossed down a staircase."

I snapped without thinking. Back home that comment would get me hit. But the boys around me just laughed.

"Sounds like a more sensible you, Spot!"

Cork laughed from beside me.

"If only you had any sense to begin with."

His voice was cool, but the underlying confidence was still there. The three of us made out way down, every eye on us now. Corkscrew kept his arm around me, and Spot kept one step above us all the way down.

It was only at the bottom that I was able to appraise him properly. And there was quite a bit to see.

Spot had blonde hair streaked with brown, and a slightly upturned nose. He wore a flannel checkered shirt of light blue with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and the neck open down to mid-chest, showing tantalizing glimpses of his chiseled muscles. He wore red suspenders with a hat, a gold tipped cane, and a beautifully polished slingshot tucked in the hem of his dark, well-fitting trousers.

It took all my self control to tear my eyes away after a glance. I didn't want this arrogant man to think I was ogling him. Which I was.

Haru bounded up to me, a small whippet of a boy at his side. This boy has soft brown hair that reminded me of feathers in the way they fell about his face, and wide fawn eyes.

"Brandy, this is me best mate Skiff. Skiff, this is Brandy."

I bent over slightly, looking Skiff in the eyes.

"Charmed."

He blushed from his neck to the roots of his hair and just nodded mutely at me. I tried to hide my smile, but a small one still managed to escape me. I was happy to see that, embarrassed though he was, Skiff still managed to grin shyly back.

"Told you she was nice as well as pretty."

Haru stage whispered, drawing a chuckle from Corkscrew. I managed to battle down the monster blush that tried to creep up on me.

"Well, I promised you food, didn't I?"

I snapped back up to look Corkscrew in the face.

"And I told you that I really couldn't. You've all done so much already, and I shouldn't stay in one place too long."

I hadn't meant to let the last part slip. I immediately averted my eyes, studying the wall over his shoulder.

"Someone comin after you?"

It wasn't the voice I expected. It came from the boy on the stair, the one who caught me once on the street and once on the staircase. I just looked at him, lifting my chin defiantly. He smirked slightly, his blue eyes suddenly twinkling. He swaggered down the last step, stopping in front of me as Corkscrew moved back to make room.

I didn't like the way everyone moved away to let this guy have space. Who was he?

As if he read my mind, the Newsie swept into a shockingly graceful bow, one leg bending behind him as his hand almost brushed the toe of his other, which remained straight. It reminded me of the show horses I had seen in a parade once. All shining manes and tails. Majestic and awe inspiring. It shocked me that his bow had the same affect.

"Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn."

I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut.

I couldn't be more surprised if he had told me he was a fish, then grew a second head.

"Brandy."

The manners Hinny had literally beat into me kicked in as a reflex. As he rose from his bow I spread my skirt out around me in an old fashioned curtsy. She had always told me I was beautiful when I curtsied, a 'onderfully graceful specimen of ladyship'.

When I rose and saw the shocked faces of the Newsies around me, and the pleasant surprise in the leader's stunning eyes, I believed her for the first time. It took him a second, but gradually the King opened his mouth and managed to purr out a question I would rather he had forgotten.

"You said you should move on. Why? Is someone chasing you Runaway?"

I ignored his poking fun at my situation, instead I replied in what I hoped was a confident manner.

"Most likely. There is not often respite for the hunted."

He seemed impressed that I spoke of my pursuers so openly.

"Well, we can't have you running on an empty stomach. You'll only collapse again."

I gasped, cool persona quickly forgone.

"How did you know I collapsed?"

His sexy smirk was beginning to frustrate me.

"Simple darling; I'm the one who found you."

He gestured to Corkscrew, and before I could reply, he and Haru had whisked me outside, where I preceded to meet every Newsie in Brooklyn, and promptly forgot all their names.

* * *

They took me to a small diner that seemed reserved only for Brooklyn Newsies. It was clean, but old, the tiles on the floor were cracked and the wallpaper had faded to a baby blue. The wooden tables were carved and scarred from years of abuse, and the leather on the booths and chairs was cracked and soft from a thousand different occupants.

The entire place -- from the elderly owner to the young waiters -- was welcoming, and it made me feel light hearted. Not to mention light headed. I really was hungry.

A few of the Newsies from the Lodging House and the street joined us, shoving tables together and jockeying for seats near me. I felt like some kind of rare specimen, something they weren't used to seeing, even though there were millions of young ladies who passed them every day.

Corkscrew had a quick wit and a lightning smile, so soon after the food arrived I was laughing and talking to the Newsies around me. They were all delightful. A bit rough around the edges, but they were a family, and acted like one. The older kids teasing the younger ones and the each other while the younger ones tussled with everyone they could.

I couldn't remember being this happy. No one asked me any questions that were about my past, and they were happy to regale me with stories of the street.

"So we in the judge's court and he's rambling on about representation. Then Spot calls out, 'Your Honor, I object.' And this judge looks at him likes he's the scum of the earth and says real hotie-toite, 'On what grounds?'"

I laughed loudly along with the rest of the boys as Indy imitates the High Judge's voice.

"And Spot cocks his head and pretends to think, then looks the Judge in the eye and says, without batting an eyelash, 'On the grounds of Brooklyn.'!"

My eyes widened.

"Seriously? To a High Judge? He could have been thrown in jail!"

"Yeah, but it was worth it to see the look on His Prissiness' face."

The voice was a gentle murmur right by my ear. I fought the urge to scream and turned around. It took all my will not to be lost in the clear blue of those eyes.

"I'm guessing you got out though?"

"Old man Denton sprung our bail. After Race offered to roll the Judge double or nothin'."

It was Haru speaking, his mouth full of bread. I quickly did a metal recall.

"I don't believe I've met Race, have I?"

Corkscrew takes a swig of soda before answering.

"Racetrack's Manhattan."

I raised my eyebrows and nodded like that meant something to me.

"Ah."

Spot snorted quietly over my shoulder.

"So Runaway, where you headed from here?"

It was only then that I realized my plate was empty, and the bill being paid. It was over. Reality hit me like a brick.

"Somewhere."

"You don't know?"

His perfect eyebrow arched critically. Everyone else around the table had fallen silent.

I honestly had no clue where I as going to go, but he didn't have to know that. Looking out the window and attempting valiantly at aloofness, I replied.

"It's probably best if you don't know."

Spot crossed his arms and leant close to my face.

"In other words, you have no idea where to go, and nowhere to sleep tonight."

The silence was suffocating.

"I'll be alright."

My voice was soft as I inspected my hands in my lap.

"You've already been to kind, and I can't get you involved. What kind of gratitude would it be if you got hurt because of me?"

He gently brushed the gash on my cheek, I sat still as a statue as his warm, long fingers tilted up my chin.

"Isn't that our decision?"

He looked over my head at the sitting Newsies.

"What do ya say boys?"

I though t I would cry at the loud roar of approval that echoed in the diner.

Spot leaned closer to my face, and for a split second I thought - hoped - he was going to kiss me.

"Just for one night though," I protested weakly.

Seriously, for one reason or another, his smirk was going to drive me crazy.

**

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**

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	4. IMPORTANT NOTE!

**IMPORTANT NOTE!!! DON'T HURT ME!!!!!!! **

* * *

Attention everyone!

I am sooooo sorry, but my computer has caught a virus!

My documents are, thank God, safe, but I cannot upload them.

The problem is being fixed as I write, but I can only update this by using a friends computer. As soon as I have mine back I will update a really long chappie. Promise!

Please be patient, and bear with me.

Thank you so much!

**

* * *

**

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	5. Manhattan Makes An Entrance

**Title: Prey in our Midst**

**Rated: T**

**Summary: She has a dangerous past. But Brooklyn is about to find out how far they will go to save the prey in their midst. SpotOC**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any characters you recognize!!!**

**NOTE!!!!! I am making Spot TALLER for this story! He is as tall as Cowboy and Davey.**

**Thanx!! That's all!!!**

**Chapter 4: Manhattan Makes An Entrance**

* * *

She sat on a fence, her feet on a crate with her full skirt gathered around her. On the street in front of her Haru and his friend Skiff were selling their last few papes. She had been with them for a week now, and was beginning to come out of her shell. She laughed every chance she got, and smiled for no reason. The Brooklyn Newsies were starting to see that before whatever had happened to her that night, Runaway had been a bright person. 

In the evening she told the younger boys stories and sang, braking up the older boys when their fights got too serious for her taste. During the day when she wasn't out selling with one boy or another, she cleaned the Lodging House, sometimes when the boys woke up in the morning their clothes would smell nicer and be folded neatly at the base of their beds.

Life just seemed better with her there. And -- he felt slightly proud saying it -- being with them seemed good for her too. The bruises on her neck had faded, her voice was stronger, and the haunted look had left her eyes. The slice on her cheek was almost healed, but it would leave a thin scar.

Spot saw red if he focused on it for too long. How could someone do that to her? What had she done?

The more he watched her, the more firmly he believed that whoever had hurt her should be severely punished.

He would pay to do it.

Any of the boys would.

Brandy was part of the family now, the first girl to integrate the Brooklyn News House. The smaller boys saw her as a mother, while the older looked after her like a sister.

A few saw her as more then that, but the 'brothers' never let them near her, forming human walls more then once when she wasn't looking, and contenting themselves to glares when she was. A guy who stared at her openly could get himself seriously soaked.

Which is why Spot never got caught.

And he did stare.

Often.

He found himself doing it more and more. He followed her when she left the Lodging House, and looked for her in crowded streets, even when he knew she wasn't there.

But Spot also found himself looking for someone else.

A faceless man with his fingerprints fading from her elegant neck.

The teen's thoughts always came back to him.

He wanted to talk to her about it, let her tell him everything. Spot had never been good at waiting, but something told him that she had to come to him. That she would be worth it. How could she not be?

Haru sold his second to last pape, then scampered back to where Brandy was sitting. A group of wealthy young men walking by stopped when they caught sight of her, buying Skiff's last paper with meaningful smiles to her. They moved slightly off, three of them seeming to be egging the other on. He straightened his jacket, and took a step towards her.

Spot decided it was time to step in. He strode out from behind the trees on the other side of the street, crossing confidently. The scabs stopped, watching as he stopped in front of his Newsies, spinning his cane.

"Doin well boys?"

Haru smiled up at him.

"We always do well when Brandy comes along."

She blushed slightly and Spot met her eyes, gaze intense.

"I'll bet."

"How much?"

Spot turned quickly to find a group of Manhattan Newsies passing the scabs, who were staring with wide eyes. Spot stepped slightly to the left, placing himself completely between them and her. Haru and Skiff came up on either side of him, watching with solemn eyes.

A teenager in a red bandanna and black hat walked forward, his handsome face in a grin. He and Spot spit shook, most of the tension between the groups evaporating.

"Jacky-boy."

Another two boys walked forward, one had brown curly hair and the other wore a batter bowler on his head.

"Racetrack, Mouth."

The boy in the bowler grinned while the other one scowled darkly..

"Heya Spot."

"What brings you here? I haven't seen you since the strike ended."

"Do we needs a reason to visit?"

Racetrack grinned. Spot just leveled him with an aloof stare.

"We're here on behalf of Medda."

Jack quickly stepped in, drawing attention back to him.

"She's throwing another Newsie party since her last one had a less then ideal ending."

He paused, glancing at the Mouth before continuing, his voice when he did unsure.

"She also said to tell you to bring back the clothes that didn't fit, and she'll give you some more of the right size."

All three looked at him, obviously curious. Spot focused his eyes on a point over Jack's shoulder, smirking widely. He liked to keep them guessing.

"Thank you. When is it?"

Jack faltered, looked like he was going to say something, then sighed.

"Day after tomorrow. Around 5 is when she'll start the show, so we'll be there at about 3."

Spot nodded. Mouth stepped up, his voice strong and the slightest bit challenging.

"Medda also said to come with the clothes early because nothing she sent is suitable for the occasion."

Spot gave him a look that would freeze ice.

"I'll keep that in mind."

There was a tense silence. Racetrack opened and closed his mouth, impersonating a fish accidentally. It dragged on until –

"Haru!"

The voice was a surprised female cry. All the Newsies turned, surprised to see little Haru frozen in the middle of the street. A wagon without a driver, the horses in a panicked frenzy barreling towards him.

Then there she was.

The front of her skirt up around her knees, the back flying out behind her, Brandy was racing the cart towards the terrified child.

Spot was already in the street before he realized he was moving. He reached her the same time she and the cart reached Haru.

It all happened so quickly.

Brandy dropped her skirt and threw her open arms toward the boy. She snatched him into her arms the same time Spot snatched her into his. Together they threw themselves backwards, tumbling to the ground as the wheels of the renegade wagon ran over the hem of Brandy's skirt.

Spot lay there for a second, his strong arms clutching her to his chest as he stared up at the sky. She was shaking, he could feel it.

He wanted to lie there forever.

It didn't matter that his ribs hurt, or that her elbow was digging into his chest. It just felt so wonderfully right.

His dream was shattered the same time his eardrums were.

Haru began to wail, Skiff was sobbing, even though nothing had happened to him. People on the street were shouting and screaming as Race, Mouth, and Jack hurried over, helping Haru up and prying Brandy from Spot's unwilling grasp.

She quickly thanked them and began to comfort the two wailing children, stroking their hair and bending over them as they clutched at her skirt.

"You alrigh'?"

Jack looked genuinely concerned, his face pale. Spot smirked at the three, once again shifting subtly to be between the Manhattaner's and Brandy.

"Course."

They looked at each other doubtfully. But not ones to trifle with the King of Brooklyn on his own turf, they reminded him of Medda's before hastily departing.

The two children had stopped crying, only hiccupping now and then as Brandy took their hands, looking up into Spot's molten eyes.

"I think we'll be heading back to the Lodging House now. Thank you very much Spot. For everything."

He nodded, falling into step with them.

"I'm heading that way myself."

The four walked in silence for a while. Then,

"Haru."

The young boy looked up, his cheeks tearstained. Skiff was holding Brandy's hand while Haru walked between she and Spot, who was next to the busy road. His blue eyes stayed focused ahead as he spoke, his voice hard.

"I'm disappointed."

The boy's eyes widened. The head Newsie continued without a pause.

"Not because you were almost run down by those horses. I understand the numbing effects of fear. I am disappointed that you put yourself in a position where someone else could get hurt for you."

He looked down at the kid.

"One of us could have been killed, and I doubt it would have been you or me..

Shock and horrible understanding flooded the brown eyes along with more salt water. Then he swiveled his head to stare at her with wide eyes. Brandy gave him a soft smile, but her eyes seemed wary.

"I would have been fine, Haru."

"Would you?"

There was anger in his voice now.

Spot swung so that he was standing in front her, blocking her path. People on the street stared, girls watching in envy as the stunning youth dropped to one knee before the gypsy girl.

Brandy watched in mute surprise as Spot lifted the hem of her skirt slightly, running his hands along it until he came to the mark left by the cart wheel as it had passed a hair's breadth from her foot.

Ashamed, she pulled backwards, ripping the soft fabric from his deft fingers. But it was too late. Skiff looked pale, Haru like he was going to be sick.

"It's fine, Haru. It's fine."

She repeated softly, but she wouldn't look at Spot as he silently stood, focusing all her attention on the small boys.

"It was my choice to come after you. I knew what I was getting into when I followed you into the street. If anything would have happened to me, I wouldn't have blamed you."

She glanced at Spot quickly.

"I wouldn't want anyone blaming you."

"But everyone would! Everyone would hate me, even if they didn't say it! If anything happened to you, even _I'd_ hate me!"

Haru burst out. Skiff nodded solemnly. Brandy smiled gently at him.

"I doubt that."

"You shouldn't. Shall we?"

Spot spoke brusquely, ending the conversation as only he could. The four continued walking in tense silence until the wind kidnapped Skiff's hat, and – laughing loudly – the two younger boys raced after it.

Brandy smiled warmly as she watched them go ahead, and Spot smirked softly at her, following along behind.

**

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I'll update again soon!**

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	6. The Docks

**Title: Prey in our Midst**

**Rated: T**

**Summary: She has a dangerous past. But Brooklyn is about to find out how far they will go to save the prey in their midst. SpotOC**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any characters you recognize!!!**

**NOTE!!!!! I am making Spot TALLER for this story! He is as tall as Cowboy and Davey.**

**Thanx!! That's all!!!**

**Chapter 5: The Docks**

* * *

"Spot! Just who I was looking for!"

The Brooklyn leader smirked and quirked an eyebrow.

"Ya found me."

Corkscrew was shirtless, his muscles glittering with water in the sunlight. A group of boys was swimming and sparring on the docks over his shoulder. Indy was standing on one side of him with Diego on the other. Diego, a 5 foot 11 inches Spanish teen with shoulder length black hair and a way with ladies, was a formidable opponent with poles, and only Spot could best him.

"We were about to do some wrestling, and I want a rematch with the poles."

"Ugh, do you boys really have too?"

Brandy's voice came from behind them. The men turned to look at her. The usual flock of children that follow her when she was near the Lodging House pooling around her.

"Do what?"

Spot asked in mock innocence.

She crossed her arms, looking more cute then intimidating.

"You know how I feel about you guys fighting, seriously or not!"

Cork put his hands up, eyes wide.

"But how will we be perfect if we never practice?"

Spot sauntered up to her, she had to turn her head to keep him in her vision, then he was gone behind her. She looked back at the group of older boys who had gathered around Corkscrew.

"You talk like the only thing you ever do is fight and sell!"

Diego put a hand to his heart in mock horror. Indy and Cork grinning widely.

"Now that's not true Chicatita!"

Brandy put a hand on her hip, one eyebrow arched.

"We eat and sleep as well!"

She let out a derisive snort.

"Trust me, I know. The one thing I wish you'd do more is bathe!"

The boys laughed. Suddenly two arms wrapped around her and a head rested on her shoulder. The boys stopped laughing quickly.

"Are you implying we smell, Madame?"

Brandy tried to still her pounding heart.

"Figure it out all by yourself?"

"Course not. Skiff explained it."

Brandy smiled, a smile that he could more feel then see. The boys on the dock were looking more and more mutinous the longer he wrapped her in his arms.

"Always new he was a bright one."

Spot smirked. The more courage she got back, the more she seemed to glow. Her confidence was defiantly making her harder and harder to resist, and Cork, along with Indy and Diego, was slowly teaching her the fine art of sarcasm.

"Spot. C'mon, we got a match to do!"

There was impatience suddenly in Diego's voice.

"Alright, alright."

He let her go and sidestepped in front of her, then turned back.

"You wanna come?"

Her eyes widened slightly, something flashing through them.

"No thanks."

Spot paused, looking back at her.

"Why are you scared of the docks?"

All the Newsies within earshot froze, his words traveling through their ranks like a ripple until once again they were watching raptly.

Brandy looked away.

"It's not that I'm scared of the docks. I'm afraid of the stuff underneath it."

Spot raised an eyebrow. He didn't like seeing her like this, shrinking back into her timid shell.

"The water?"

She nodded, swallowing.

"Once, before I left, I was punished for misbehaving. He – They – almost drowned me. I never learnt how to swim. Ever since then I've been afraid of the water. I've always thought that suffocation would be a rather painful and pointless way to go. Don't you?"

She tried to say it with a bright tone, but her voice wavered slightly. It always did when something from her past slipped by her lips.

Spot reached out, gently taking her hand. She looked up in surprise as he walked backwards, leading her past the silent congregation of boys. He continued until he was standing on the wood of the docks, but her feet were still on the sidewalk.

"We boys swim like fishes. As long as any of the older boys are on the docks, nothing will ever happen to you. Brooklyn belongs to the Newsies, and you should be allowed to go wherever you like with the confidence of a goil protected by the fists of Brooklyn's finest."

She stared at him. Slowly, Corkscrew came up beside her, slipping an arm around her waist, Diego came up on her other side while Indy took her other hand. Other Newsies joined, forming a pinwheel with Brandy at the center.

Spot smirked at her, his eyes glittering.

"Welcome to the family. We're lucky to have you."

Then she smiled, and the entire world lit up, illuminating the beauty of every moment spent with her. Surrounded by her new family, Brandy closed her green eyes, and took that step, letting the last of her old fears go.

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Just a filler, but fear not! The next one is worth waiting for! -**

**I'll update again soon!**

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	7. The Plunge

**Title: Prey in our Midst**

**Rated: T**

**Summary: She has a dangerous past. But Brooklyn is about to find out how far they will go to save the prey in their midst. SpotOC**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any characters you recognize!!!**

**NOTE!!!!! I am making Spot TALLER for this story! He is as tall as Cowboy and Davey.**

**Thanx!! That's all!!!**

**Chapter 6: The Plunge**

* * *

"Brandy! Brandy!" I paused, looking over my shoulder as two of the younger lads raced towards me, one chasing the other. I had a basket in my hands, and was just about to go collect the coats I had hung out to dry. It looked like snow in the next few months, and I was planning on patching up the old coats before the boys froze to death out on the streets. The first one reached me, grabbing a handful of my skirt and spinning me between him and the second boy, who reached me soon after.

I spun there, my head thrown back as I laughed. The two boys chased each other around me, while both tried to stay hidden in the folds of my skirt. I loved being this happy every day.

I didn't notice the smiles on the face of every Newsie that stopped to watch, or the blue eyes that softened when he walked out the door.

All I knew was that this was perfect, and I wanted it to last forever.

I was even foolish enough to believe it would.

"Come to the docks Brandy! It's too cold to swim, but everyone is there setting up for a game of cards. And Flash said he'd help me with my slingshot!"

I smiled at the boy, Kindle, who had stopped chasing Den around my legs.

"Alright. But only for a while. I have work to do."

But I said it half heartedly, knowing that I would much rather be with them.

As we walked, more and more of my small wards dropped into step behind me, wooden swords clacking as they dueled.

I passed onto the dock with confidence, seeing Corkscrew sitting on a precarious pile of crates and Spot onto of his 'throne'. Boys lounged about, a few getting up the energy to spar or shoot. Most were absorbed in a card game all the way at the end of the wooden planks.

About halfway down I stopped, turning to sit on a pylon, content to watch the boys play. As they passed a few of the older boys stopped to greet me, telling me about their day and the headlines they hawked.

As one of them walked away, I felt a shiver run down my spine.

Something was up.

Slowly I scanned the docks. A group of scabs was walking down the waterfront street. I wondered what they would do when they grew level with us. Probably pretend we weren't there, maybe a few of the girls would bat their eyelashes at Spot or Cork.

Thinking of him, I found myself looking at his stack of crates, slowly climbing them one by one until I reached the top. Even more slowly I wandered up the length of his toned chest, hidden by his red suspenders and flannel shirt.

Saving the best for last, I slowly reached his defined jaw, lingering on his smirking lips and slightly upturned nose.

Then his eyes captured mine. He had been looking straight at me. My mind went blank as a warm smile pulled at my lips.

After what seemed like an eternity of eternities, one of the boys raced up to me, calling my name loudly. It took all my will and self restraint to pull myself from his bottomless depths.

"Brandy, I just wanted to let you know that when we grow up, Haru and I both said we were gonna marry you, so you'd better start making a decision of who would be best to take care of you."

Then he dashed away again. Flattered laughter bubbled up in my throat, and I let it escape. I was over hiding my happiness.

A large ship flashed in my peripheral vision, and I stood to watch it pass. Facing the water I feared, I shaded my eyes to watch the majestic vessel glide by.

A sharp hiss came from behind me, and I spun, worried one of the boys had hurt himself. Instead, I found myself almost nose to nose with an attractive girl about my age, maybe older.

With a jolt I recognized her. She was one of his other girls, he used her for some of the darker downtown areas. We never spoke before, as I was uptown, and she worked the lower area near the Bronx.

"Vixen."

She snarled. I heard a clatter as Cork stood quickly, upsetting the crates he had been perched on. The Newsies were taking notice of this girl and I.

"Pardon?"

I decided it was safest to play innocent, praying she would back down and claim she made a mistake. I was not lucky today.

"Dirty lying traitor!"

Her voice was louder now, and I realized I was moving away from her, my heels almost touching the edge of the planks.

"Excuse me?"

I was getting angry now, and I was more then a little worried. Some of the guys were coming towards us, Cork and Spot in the lead, but they wouldn't make it. They still had a few yards to go, and they were only walking. The younger boys were standing back, startled and confused.

My reinforcements were within hearing range of her next comment though.

"Goodbye gypsy whore!"

Then her hands were on my shoulders, and with a violent push, I was falling.

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DUN-DUN-DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**What's gonna happen!!!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?**

**REVIEW and I'll update again soon!**

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	8. How The King Saw It

**Title: Prey in our Midst**

**Rated: T**

**Summary: She has a dangerous past. But Brooklyn is about to find out how far they will go to save the prey in their midst. SpotOC**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any characters you recognize!!!**

**NOTE!!!!! I am making Spot TALLER for this story! He is as tall as Cowboy and Davey.**

**Thanx!! That's all!!!**

**Chapter 7: How The King Saw It**

* * *

Spot sat lazily on top of his creates down at the docks, the Newsies playing around him. His cold blue eyes swept over them all as he listened to their chatter. It was too cold to swim, and the water looked uninviting. He felt himself beginning to smile when he found her. 

In her long full skirt and the bangles some of the boys had bought, then left on her bed, she looked every bit like a gypsy, and he found her just as intriguing.

The smaller children loved her, calling her 'Sissy'. And even he lay awake in the evening listening to the stories she told them, as did all the other boys. Coming back to a clean Lodging House and knowing she was waiting had become a highlight in everyone's day.

Even his.

The younger boys tumbled after her, playing with their wooden swords and slingshots. About halfway down she turned, sitting gracefully on one of the pylons, just watching as the boys scampered about. As they passed the older boys greeted her, Brandy was part of the family now.

She looked around then, scoping out the entire dock before her eyes climbed his stack of crates, then his body.

Blue smoldered into green.

Spot smirked as her orbs widened slightly in surprise. Then they warmed, and she gave him a small smile. He could stay like this forever.

All too soon one of the boys raced up to her. Reluctantly Spot let her break her gaze from his. The two spoke briefly, and Spot watched his lips as they soundlessly moved. As the small boy ran off, Brandy threw back her head and laughed.

She looked radiant.

Angelic.

A large ship pulled into the river and Brandy stood, shading her eyes to watch it float by.

Tearing his eyes from her profile, Spot noticed one of the scab girls walking down the wooden planks toward the Newsies.

She looked furious as she neared the gypsy girl. Behind her a group of five or six other people, mostly girls, watched as well. Their faces showed confusion, and it looked as if they might go after her.

The Brooklyn leader began to shift from his perch as the blonde reached his redhead.

She was almost on top of her before Brandy turned, a startled look on her face.

As he strode past him, Corkscrew leapt to his feet, upturning his crate with a clatter. The other boys noticed their leader, then saw his destination. Many of them rose as well.

Spot had almost reached them when…

"Goodbye gypsy whore!"

Then Brandy seemed to float in the air next to the dock, her emerald eyes wide with shock and fear, before falling toward the frigid water.

With a jolt, her words echoed in Spot's mind.

"_Ever since then I've been afraid of the water. I've always thought that suffocation would be a rather painful and pointless way to go."_

Dropping his cane and hat, while pulling his slingshot from his belt, Spot broke into a run, sprinting the last few steps.

"Hold her!" He gestured to the surprised blonde.

Then he dove, slicing through the freezing water.

Brandy looked like a broken angel. Her clothes billowing water logged around her, her hair suspended like a red halo. In the murky water her skin seemed to glow ethereally.

Spot reached out, grasping her wrist. With a jerk, he pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her waist and kicking upwards.

When his head broke the surface he was greeted with a deafening cheer. Slinging her small, unresponsive form over one shoulder, Spot began to climb the ladder to the dock. As soon as he was within reach, the strongest boys were taking her from him, hauling the two of them up the last few rungs.

"Set her down gently! Gently. Gently!"

Diego was directing as a group of boys gingerly laid Brandy's sodden body on the dock's wooden planks.

There was a small circle around her, everyone looking at the sodden Spot to show them how to help her. Wasting no time, his exterior calm, but his adrenaline rushing, Spot dropped to his knees beside her.

He put two hands on her lower chest and pushed twice, then, breathing shallowly, he lent down.

There, in front of everyone on that dock, the feared King of Brooklyn put his lips softly over hers.

It was the easiest thing he ever did.

Holding her nose closed, he concentrated on filling her lungs, trying desperately to ignore the heat she generated in him when they touched.

One breath, then it took all his self restraint to pull away. Once again he pushed on her chest.

The tension was pliable.

Nothing.

Then, as he leant down again, she began to cough. Rolling over, Brandy coughed up half the river to enthusiastic shouts of relief and joy from the Newsies.

Spot felt a rush of relief as the tension left his body, only slightly dampened by the fact that she had been unconscious the first time their lips had met.

Over the ruckus a shrill voice reached him.

"I didn't know she couldn't swim! Besides, the tramp deserves what she gets!"

There were yells and the sound of a scuffle.

Spot was instantly on his feet, pushing through the throng to the outer rim, where the girl who shoved Brandy was staring down Corkscrew, who was being physically restrained by a grim Reaper.

Indy hovered nearby, unsure whether to help Reaper, or break the unwritten Newsie rule of never hitting a scab girl.

Spot was having the same mental debate.

"Don't you call her a tramp you ugly hag!" Cork snarled.

The girl looked taken aback, her friends letting out small gasps.

"How dare you – "

"How dare you threaten one of mine on my own turf."

Spot's voice was an icy sword. It caught the attention of everyone on the dock. The girl looked him up and down, her entire body visibly changing.

Her stance became more inviting, her eyes and smile attempting to be tempting.

Spot was disgusted. And he let it show in his voice.

"Get out of here. And don't come back. If you see one of us on the street, walk the other way, because I can't guarantee that there won't be an 'accident' the next time me or my boys see you."

Her smile faltered and her eyes widened.

"Are you threatening _me_ over _her_?"

"Yes," Spot's eyes flashed dangerously, "and I'm confident I've made the wining choice."

Behind him the Brooklynites nodded in agreement.

The girl's eyes narrowed as the boys parted, allowing Brandy's small figure – wrapped in someone's flannel shirt – to come through.

Her eyes held no anger, only curiosity as she cocked her head to one side, her wet hair falling over her shoulder adorably.

"What was that for?"

A look of disbelief entered the blonde girl's eyes as she put a hand on her hip.

"That was for all the trouble you caused Warren."

Spot watched carefully as the same primal fear as the day of the storm flashed in Brandy's green depths.

Warren.

His enemy had a name.

"He's gonna be so proud when he knows I found you. I might even get your old job. He wasn't chosen anyone to replace you yet."

Brandy had dropped to her knees, her eyes staring, but seeing something other then the planks of harmless wood before her.

"You're gonna tell Warren."

Her voice was as soft as a breath, it trembled over the boys around her. The ones nearest her moved quickly, crouching beside her and reaching out to touch her arms. Trying to offer comfort, brave whispers trying to stave off the darkness within her.

A fierce malice entered the other girls eyes.

"He's gonna give you such a beating! I've never seen him this angry, and he can draw blood when he's pleased! Can you imagine what he'll do to you, you little traitor? Your not his favorite now are you!? Not his precious little daughter any more!"

Spot glared at her, eyes burning with hatred. He took a menacing step forward, but a voice rang out from behind him.

Brandy had grown more and more pale as the other girl spoke, but at her last comment she had shook off the reassuring hands. Standing quickly, drawing herself up with her eyes full of a hatred and anger the Newsies didn't even think she possessed.

Her voice was a poisonous hiss.

"That _creature_ is not my father! Never sully my blood with his again. That demon, that wolf in sheep's clothing, he is **no** relation of mine. I would sooner die then get mixed up with the likes of him again!"

The two women glared at each other.

"With how pissed he is, that would be the best option you could hope for. It would do everyone else a favor!"

Brandy opened her mouth, her retort on the tip of her tongue, when someone else stepped in.

Everyone on the dock stared in shock as little Haru stepped in front of Brandy's skirt, his small fists raised as he shifted agilely from foot to foot.

"Leave Brandy alone! It wouldn't do anyone any good if she died! It would be horrible, and I think you should go away!"

Spot smirked, then strode over, ruffling Haru's hair as he stepped up beside him. She was blocked quickly from the girl's view. His voice rang out over the docks, the sheer power in his tone forcing the blonde back a step.

"Brandy is part of the family now. You tell this Warren that if he messes with her, her messes with Spot Conlon, and all of Brooklyn will stand and fight."

The Newsies flooded forward, building a wall of muscle between Brandy and her attacker.

The baffled girl backed away, then turned and ran back to her friends with one last glare.

Brandy stood frozen, staring at the backs of her protectors.

A small hand slipped into hers, and she stared down into Haru's grinning face.

"Don' listen to her, she don' know nothin. She's jus jealous."

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind, the same way they always did when it was him.

"Of course, who can blame her?"

Spot grinned at Haru over her shoulder, and the small boy was swept away, praised for his bravery.

"Spot? We need to talk later. Please?"

Her voice was quite, and it sounded almost ashamed to the Head Newsie. It made his entire body ache to hear her sound like that.

Then he was forced to step back as the rest of the Newsies converged on her, doting and fussing over her as they insisted on carrying her back to the Lodging House – though they did spend about fifteen minutes deciding who would do the honored carrying - to get dry. They avoided all talk of what had happened, just wanting things to go back to the way they were.

Whoever this Warren was, they just wanted her to forget him.

To forget everything that made her scared or upset.

She was an honorary Brooklyn Newsie now, and they wouldn't give her up without one hell of a fight.

**

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**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	9. The 'Operation'

**Title: Prey in our Midst**

**Rated: T**

**Summary: She has a dangerous past. But Brooklyn is about to find out how far they will go to save the prey in their midst. SpotOC**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any characters you recognize!!!**

**NOTE!!!!! I am making Spot TALLER for this story! He is as tall as Cowboy and Davey.**

**Thanx!! That's all!!!**

**Chapter 8: The 'Operation'**

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"Spot?"

In the semi-darkness he turned slightly, glancing at me over his shoulder. I had risen because I could not sleep and, slipping on the thick woolen cloak Medda had sent with Indy once the weather had turned cold, I had walked aimlessly down to the docks.

I had not seen the blue eyed teen since Cork and the other had dragged me up to the Boarding House, then kidnapped me for a spontaneous trip around Brooklyn.

He was the last person I expected to see, yet when I identified him everything felt right.

I walked hesitantly up beside him, following his gave out across the water to the glittering lights of Manhattan.

"That was quite a fall."

His rolling voice broke through the silence between us. I glanced up at him, but he continued to stare straight ahead, over the inky water.

"Yes."

I took a breath.

"Thank you."

I thought I saw him arch one eyebrow.

"In the past two days alone you saved me twice. That makes it five to zero."

He slid his eyes to the side to look at me.

"Five?"

"You saved me the night of the storm, the staircase, the wagon, the docks, and…well, all of you have slowly begun to save me from myself over the past days."

He said nothing, just went back to looking at the yellow lights across the river.

I knew what I should do. What I needed to say.

"Spot, you've never asked, but I think I should tell you. I owe you an explanation most of all."

"Explanation for what?"

I couldn't bring myself to look at him, though I knew he was looking at me.

"Who I am. Why I ran, and what's coming after me."

He nodded, I caught the movement from the corner of my eye.

"But it's a long story. And I need you not to interrupt. I've already asked for so much, but right now, I need you just to listen. And don't judge until the bitter end."

I looked at him then, and found him lounging nonchalantly on two crates, his eyes watching my every move.

"Darlin, for you, I've got all night."

Nodding, more to reassure myself then tell him I understood, I settled opposite him. Concentrating on the flickering lights on Manhattan as I began.

"My parents died when I was young. I was about six when it happened. I was left with my closest kin; a shrewd woman I always new as Hinny. She was related to a deceased cousin of my mother's by marriage. Since his death she had married another man. Warren Harand. She raised me severely, within a year I new every manner and rule there was in the upper class societies. You learn quickly when spurred by fear. When I misbehaved or did not meet the standards set for me, Warren would become angry and violent. I believed for many years it was his way of showing affection, but I was very wrong. On my ninth birthday I was shown an upper class house, and told what I was to do. And I have been doing it ever since."

I took a deep breath, not daring to look at him.

"Warren and Hinny called it the 'Operation'; there are branches of it everywhere. Most of Manhattan's Operations are run by the Harands. There are two main traps in the Operation.

"The first is a distraught young lady will come out of an alleyway, a rich gentleman happens to be walking by and offers his assistance, as is proper. She then tells him of how she and her escort were beset upon by vagabonds and she managed to escape, but her beau was no so fortunate and is still locked in combat with them. This gentleman must come and help at once. Bound by duty, the wealthy victim follows her into the alley where her accomplices strip of his money and make sure he will never speak of what happened. Usually using blackmail.

"I was never involved in that type of Operation. Warren and Hinny had trained me for something else. Something much bigger.

"A letter would be sent to a wealthy household, telling them that their cousins have been entrusted with showing the daughter of a wealthy Duke from England's young daughter around New York. They have been waylaid by a tragic event, so have sent the daughter on ahead. Would the family be willing to watch over her for a short while?

"They always said yes, and in Warren's dressed up carriage I would arrive. Stringing the family along on a whirlpool of lies and charm. I was good at the falsehood on the outside, but once I understood what was going on, it began to eat away at me inside. After three days I would leave my bedroom window open after supplying a list of ways to get in without being seen to Warren and his thugs.

"They would come in through my window and rob the house, tying me up along with the family and any servants. After stripping the house of all valuables, they would leave. The next day I would get back into the carriage, saying that I could not possibly impose myself on the family at this time, and that I had made other arrangements. Within three days I was usually being prepped for another assignment."

I took a deep breath, from here on out things got even worse. I still couldn't look at him. He probably hated me now.

"Then, one night in Manhattan things went wrong. I don't know how or why, but the police found out which house was going to be struck next. They were waiting when I arrived, but for some reason they didn't know about my part in the Operation. Whoever tipped them off left me out of it.

"I had no way to warn Warren. The robbery turned into a brawl and three people were killed. One police officer and two thugs. Warren escaped, and the carriage came the next day; as arranged."

A bitterness entered my voice.

"I should have run then. I should have suspected that there would be horrible repercussions. I just – I didn't think they would effect me. Warren had always treated me with something bordering on affection. I didn't realize that to him I was just a doll. Something he could easily manipulate and control. He knew I longed for companionship. So he offered a cheap replacement to me, knowing I would cling to it blindly. I didn't disappoint him.

"When I arrived back at the house where Warren and Hinny lived, Warren was calm. He wasn't angry with me, and listened patiently as I explained what had happened. It was dark outside when he asked me to walk with him.

"I should have been scared, but I was a fool. I trusted him. So, I followed him like a lost lamb, out into the night."

My voice had become slightly toneless, I was lost in the memories, and Spot was just along for the ride.

"We came to an alley way. About halfway down he spoke to me. His voice was deeper then normal, angry. He told me that my story was convincing. He would have believed me if he hadn't seen me con a thousand other people. It didn't register. I didn't understand what he meant until I saw the glint in his hand as he came towards me."

My blood was pumping. The memory I had fought to contain was spilling out, consuming me in its detail. My hand rose to my cheek, the almost healed cut.

"He almost got me. I dodged just in time, the blade only grazed me. He was so shocked that he allowed his momentum to slam his hand into the wall. He dropped the knife, and I kicked it away."

I let out a trembling sigh.

"I should have run. I should have screamed. I should have done so many things that I didn't. He was on me in an instant. His hand choking me, slamming my head against the wall as he lifted me up off the ground. I almost passed out. There were stars and my lungs were burning. I lashed out. My boot toe hit his ribs. They broke. He was so surprised he dropped me, and this time I did run. He almost caught me twice before terror spurred me forward. I didn't stop until…"

I trailed off, finally turning to look at him. He was just an outline in the night.

"Until I collapsed in the street by the Lodging House."

There was a pregnant silence between us as I waited. Desperately praying he would say something. He didn't.

"I – I understand," I hated how my voice wavered. I had to take two steadying breaths and close my eyes before I could continue.

"I understand if you want me go. Just tell me to and I can be out before morning. The boys don't have to know. I – I don't want them to know about…all of this."

I had stood at some point, and I clenched my fists, holding my breath as I waited for him to speak.

Slowly, he rose from the crates, unfolding until he reached his full height. In two steps he had crossed the distance between us, pulling me into his arms. My breath came out in a surprised whoosh. His arms were wrapped around my waist, one hand was stroking up and down my spine. I melted into him, everything in me relaxing into a state of euphoric tranquility.

"Don't be a fool."

He growled into me ear. A shiver ran involuntarily through me.

"Where is the best place for us to protect you but here?"

I couldn't breath.

He wanted me to stay.

I could stay with the boys.

With him.

Happiness rose in my chest like laughter. It overtook me, and before I knew what I was doing I had wrapped my arms around his neck, squeezing him closer as I grinned into the darkness behind him.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

I pulled back slightly, pressing my lips against his tanned cheek. As soon as I pulled back and met his smirk I realized what I had just done. I retreated as far as I could considering he wouldn't let me go.

"Thank me like that and it will _always_ be a pleasure."

I swatted his arm lightly, a small smile on my lips as I thanked God it was too dim for him to see my blush.

"As much as I hate to say this, it's almost morning, and we have Medda's party tomorrow. I have a feeling we'll want to be awake enough to remember it."

Keeping one arm around me, the King of Brooklyn – I was his subject now, I suppose - steered me deftly back to the Lodging House, leaving me with a whispered goodnight and a wink at my bedroom door.

**

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**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	10. A New Dream

**Disclaimer: Only in my dreams**

**Chapter 9: A New Dream

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**

Spot sat by her bed, just watching her sleep.

This strange whippet of a girl who had reformed his life's purpose.

Sleep would not come.

He didn't understand how - after all she had been through - she still managed to close her eyes at night. But he was glad she could.

He was too scared he would wake up to find all of this – all of _her_ – had only been a wonderful dream.

Anger surged up white hot in his chest again.

Those people.

This monsters who had pretended to be her family. He hated them.

He hated this Warren, a man he had never met, more then he had ever hated any man before.

It didn't matter if the bastard brought every thug in New York raining down on the Brooklyn Lodging House; Brandy wasn't going anywhere she didn't want to, and especially not without him.

His body still tingled from hug, his mind reeling from the kisses they had shared. (If you counted mouth-to-mouth resuscitation as a kiss.)

How did she do this to him? Haunt his thoughts, pop up in every idea and random tangent? How could he live like this? How could he not?

In her sleep her eyelids fluttered, her green orbs moving restlessly beneath them. She was dreaming, and Spot found himself wildly hoping he was in it. Slowly her breathing accelerated, and he **really** hoped he was in it.

He zeroed in on her face, nothing else in the world existed but her perfect face. So he picked up on her parted lips and the slight wrinkles forming between her eyebrows. Slowly, her face contorted to a frown, her eyes moving even faster as her breath became a rasping pant.

This was no happy illusion.

Brandy was locked in a struggle with the darker recesses of her mind.

She was trapped in a nightmare.

She let out a plaintive whimper, and Spot was on his knees beside her bed in an instant, smoothing her silken hair back from her face. His face was intoxicatingly near hers.

Someone was whispering.

It took a moment of panic for Spot to realize it was him. He was whispering sweet nothings against her ear. Swearing to protect her, telling her beautiful she was, and how she had rearranged his life to revolve around her and he had never been so happy.

Her eyes quickly stopped roving, her body relaxing as her head lolled gently into his hands. She was so soft, so warm. Watching her sleep, Spot felt his eyes grow heavy. He was tempted to crawl next Brandy, snuggling up against her to make sure the nightmare stayed away. It took a great amount of control to silently rise to his feet.

He would dream of her, he knew.

Looking back every other step, he stole to the door and from there, out into the hallway.

In her sleep, Brandy smiled, a familiar figure walking out of the mists of her nightmare to embrace her protectively, the demons that haunted her scampering away from his glowing light and piercing eyes.

As she smiled in her room, his name escaped her lips like a whispered prayer as the door clicked softly shut.

"Spot."

**

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Just a bit of insight and a small progression of the character's feelings.**

**More substantial chapters to follow!!**

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**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	11. To Manhattan

**Disclaimer: Only in my dreams**

**I'm updating again so soon because of your wonderful reviews!! **

**THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!**

**Chapter 10: To Manhattan

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**

Where are we going again?"

Brandy blew a stand of hair out of her face, she and the boys were waiting at the mouth of Brooklyn Bridge.

"Medda's. For a Newsie party."

Brandy played with her skirt.

"Ah."

"It'll be your first appearance as a Brooklynite! You should be excited!"

Indy spoke from his perch on the railing nearby.

"If by excited you mean extremely nervous, then yes, yes I am."

She received a round of chuckles, and just as Indy opened his mouth to reply, Haru, Skiff, and her usual group of chicks spotted her.

They raced toward Brandy at full speed, all talking at once.

With a playful yelp, Brandy dodged behind Cork, using him as a human shield to block her from being tackled.

He, in return, dragged Diego in front of him yelling, "Meat Shield!!!"

Diego pretended to be horrified, yanking Indy off the fence to save himself. The children exploded in a fit of giggles as soon the entire bridge was awash with teenagers scrambling desperately to hide behind each other.

The game continued until Brandy allowed them to catch her, everyone's giggles slowly subsiding.

A hush rippled through them suddenly, the air electric with excitement. There was someone moving through the aisle created by the rowdy crowd. Cheers burst out as he passed.

Spot walked through his Newsies to the edge of the bridge, his cane tapping lightly with each step he took. He strode ahead of the rest onto the structure spanning the river.

There was silence.

Finally he turned, and tossing his cane up, he caught it in the middle of it's black shaft, letting the golden tip fall lazily into a pinwheel spin by his side.

He looked incredible, his hat was in his pocket and his blonde-brown hair flopped rakishly in his face. His blue-grey eyes shone mischievously out at his tribe.

"To Manhattan!"

His smirk as the Newsies whooped in excitement took her breath away. Their eyes met, and he winked at her before spinning on his heel, brusquely setting off across the bridge.

Then they were moving. A united wall pushing her forward across the bridge. Brandy was happy to find herself jostled to the front lines, and from there it was only a short jog to Corkscrew and Spot at the head of the unruly pack.

"Heya Brandy."

Corkscrew grinned when she caught up with him.

"Heya. So we're headed to Medda's?"

"Nah. We're goin' to meet the Manhattan Newsies for a couple a card games at Tibby's. Then we go to Medda's."

"Oh."

There was a slight pause, then Brandy asked the question she had been considering since she had met Jack and the other Manhattaners.

"Jack mentioned a 'last time'. He said it didn't end well. What happened?"

Cork looked at her for a second before replying.

"It was a Newsie Rally during the Strike. The police broke it up to get Jack and it turned into a brawl. We weren't gonna let them have him easily, he was a Newsie, part of out extremely large family. They were armed, we weren't. It was a massacre. But even then Brooklyn gave them some bruises to nurse!"

He was obviously proud of this particular story.

"Indy and Diego managed to take two of the police horses, and led the rest on a merry chase up and down the stairs and onto the stage of the theater. I joined up with Specs and Ice to take back Les, Racetrack, and Blink. Then we spent the rest of the fight guarding one of the boxes that was filled with all the unconscious Newsies. It was quite a night. In the end it took six of them with nightsticks to beat us."

Corkscrew had pride and admiration shining out of his eyes, convincing her of the truth behind his words. Brandy raised a hand to her mouth in horror.

"You remember the story we told you about Spot and the Judge?"

She nodded mutely.

"It was that night. Spot was incredible. He was still conscious and a smart ass, even after it took four of them to beat him into submission."

On the other side of Corkscrew, Spot smirked, but his eyes were hard.

"Four?" Brandy choked out.

"He's not King of Brooklyn for nothin'. Spot fights like no one I've ever seen. It like a game to him. An art form. It makes him happy. The same buzz we get from drinking and smoking, Spot gets from a good fisticuffs."

He snorted slightly.

"Spot is the only guy I know who, when in a fight, believes that being neutral means you hit everybody in sight. I once saw him come into a random brawl and be the only guy left standing, and he had no idea what the fight was about!"

Cork grew serious again, his eyes wandering over to the King of Brooklyn, where he walked just within hearing distance, listening to Diego give him a report on the status in the Bronx.

"He gets thins gleam in his eye. He's so focused. The only time I've ever seen him that intense is-"

It was only because he was looking at him that Corkscrew noticed the eyes that had made Spot Conlon famous slide his way. There was a clear warning in them. One that no person, pauper or king would dare to ignore. Spot had only looked at him that way once before.

The curly haired boy's breath hitched in his throat, and his palms began to sweat. Fear made lances of ice drive up his spine, shattering his backbone.

"Cork?"

Her concerned voice pulled him back to the bridge, out of the dark place those eyes had taken him to. He cleared his throat, not looking at her lest she see the coward he became when the King reprimanded him.

"Nothing. I've never seen him that intense."

Brandy tried to get in front of him, moving her head to catch his eye.

"Corkscrew?"

He turned slightly from her, and a hand grasped her wrist. She reluctantly turned to find Indy grinning at her, and before she could protest he had whisked her away, Diego trailing along behind.

Cork didn't raise his eyes from the road as a familiar black cane tapped the bridge by his feet rhythmically.

"I've always liked you Alexander."

He winced slightly at his real name. He was in trouble.

"I liked you enough to make you my second in command."

Here it comes.

"But your mouth is large and your brain is small."

It was said with such an edge that it cut through the walls he had been trying to build.

"Over the next few days I expect you to take steps to remedy that problem. Before I do."

With that the cane and the voice were both gone. Cork felt humbled, and relived.

The comments were scalding. They would haunt him over the next few weeks every time he opened his mouth.

But at least this lesson hadn't been physical. At least the humiliation hadn't been public.

Cork raised his head, his curls bouncing around his face. Scanning the crowd behind him while walking backwards, he quickly located her red hair.

Grinning, he waited, slipping in beside Haru as she passed, just in time to hear Diego's story come to an end.

"Then the rope gets caught around both their legs, Spot gives a yank, and half the police force of Brooklyn gets dragged into the river!!"

Her laughter echoed across the bridge, making life worthwhile.

**

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**Wolfy101**


	12. So Close

**Disclaimer: Only in my dreams**

**I'm updating again so soon because of your wonderful reviews!! **

**THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!**

**Chapter 11: So close**

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It was surprising how quickly time and distance flew listening to the stories the boys took turns regaling her with. Before she knew it Brandy was back in Manhattan, but here, in the middle of the day, surrounded by her new family, she found it hard to be afraid.

Her life before this seemed like a dream, a nightmare from an age ago. After walking for a few more minutes Spot raised his cane, and as a unit the Brooklyn Newsies stopped.

"Cork, take the boys to Tibby's. Brandy and I have an appointment."

Corkscrew looked at him curiously, but nodded, leading the boys down a side street as Spot walked away.

Brandy hovered for a moment, confused, before taking off after him at a jog.

"We have an appointment?"

The glare he threw her was halfhearted, mirth peeking through.

"Medda wanted you early right?"

It was only then that she noticed the brown parcel under his arm.

"Thank you for coming with me."

He was watching the people around them suspiciously, so she didn't see the hint of surprise that flashed in his shocking mercury eyes.

"I couldn't just let you wander around Manhattan looking for Medda's on your own!"

Brandy just smiled gently. She was surprised when he continued, his voice much softer, like he was talking more to himself then to her.

"After what you told me I didn't even want you to come. But I couldn't just leave you alone at the Lodging House, and the boys are set on showing you off…"

His voice trailed away, and she let him grow silent, allowing him time to think through whatever it was he couldn't say.

A carriage lumbered past in the street and he took her arm without seeming to think about it. Silently guiding her around in front of him so that he was walking closest to the road.

Brandy looked up at him from where she was nestled at his side. Judging from the serious glares he was giving the wagons that zipped past, he had no intention of letting her go. She had almost forgotten about the wagon incident, but it was obviously something he still remembered.

Her heart was pounding.

Other girls on the street stared at her, some in open envy, others is jealous anger. Brandy kept her eyes down, fighting the blush on her cheeks. It was because she was staring the juncture where the cobbles met the buildings that she felt the sudden cold dread.

She stopped walking.

Spot looked down in surprise when he felt her begin to quiver. They were at the mouth of an ally that connected this main drag to an upper class residential street.

"Brandy?"

His arm tightened slightly around her waist.

"It was here."

Her voice sounded dazed.

"I ran all the way from here to Brooklyn that night."

Spot looked at the alleyway again. It had seemed harmless, but now - now every shadow seemed to harbor something evil.

He glanced down at her, she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from it. He could feel her numbing herself from the inside out. She was just shutting down on him.

Spot shifted in front of her, blocking her line of vision with his chest. His other hand came up, tilting her chin until their eyes met.

"I'm very glad that you did."

The Newsie's voice was soft, his clear silvery-blue eyes darting from her eyes to her lips and back.

She leant slightly closer, letting the street fade away until there was only him.

They were so close.

Spot could feel her breath on his lips, he himself had stopped breathing a while ago.

Her green orbs fluttered closed as she relaxed in his arms. His eyes were hooded as he drew her closer.

They were only a breath away.

"Brooklyn?"

Spot growled low in his throat, a half centimeter away from Brandy's lips. She opened her eyes. While his were filled with anger and frustration, hers were filled with laughter.

"That you?"

The voice was male, coming from the cursed alley over Spot's shoulder. She let out a breathless laugh, feeling his shoulder muscles tighten beneath her fingers. Brandy went up on tiptoe, kissing him lingeringly on the cheek.

"Be nice."

She giggled into his ear.

All of the tendons relaxed completely, and he turned around, coming face to face with an attractive teenager with golden hair and an eye patch.

"Kid."

The boy grinned.

"Hiya Spot!"

The leader of Brooklyn stayed where he was as Kid Blink approached, blocking Brandy from his good eye.

"You're early for Medda's."

Spot's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I got business."

Kid paused, sensing a touchy subject.

"The rest of the boy's are at Tibby's. Diego is convinced you owe him money for a rigged bet."

Taking the hint, Kid inclined his head slightly, then scampered down the street, disappearing into a gaggle of pinafored ladies coming up the sidewalk.

Brandy slipped her arm through his.

"We're going to be late for Medda's."

He smirked down at her, then led her across the street.

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Really short, but REVIEW(!!!) and I'll update a succulent new chapter super soon!!! (; Did ya get the hint? ;)**

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	13. Medda's?

**_A/N:_ Someone who has always inspired me died today. He was in a lot of pain, but losing him still hurts so, so much. Don't worry, the story won't change to be all depressing, but no flames. I can't handle them for a little while. **

**CC, this ones for you.**

**Chapter 12: Medda's**

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'Medda's' turned out to be a large theater and dance hall. Spot pushed open one of the double doors at the front of the building, holding it as I passed inside.

"Thank you."

I murmured, smiling at him. My heart was still pounding in my throat.

He almost kissed me!

I almost let him!

It had felt so right; so safe there in his arms.

I melted when he looked at me. I was unsure of who I was, who he wanted me to be. I was sending mixed signals to him, but I couldn't help it. He made me shy and confident, sweet and coy.

Oh Lord!

I concentrated on breathing as he came up beside me.

"This way."

Taking my hand he led me through the bright lobby and up a wide staircase into the central theater. A large stage took up most of the room, and cloth covered tables took up the wide open dance space straight in front of it.

It was the woman setting up the food table that caught my attention. Her hair was red, but very different from mine.

It was like a wolf and a Scottie. Same species, whole different breed.

Where my hair was a dark, subtle red; hers was a bright, brassy color. Almost a type of orange.

Her dress was a mass of purple lace and frills. She turned toward us in surprise, her face was kind, with smile lines lightly defining her lively blue eyes.

"Spot?"

Her voice was musical, if confused. Then her eyes found me, half hiding behind the Brooklyn Newsie.

When her eyes lighted on me they lit up like a cat with a mouse. Before I could give into my impulse to run, Spot pulled me around in front of him, hunching over to rest his chin on my shoulder with his arms wrapped around my waist.

"I brought you a gift Medda! A life size dress up doll!"

I elbowed him weakly. I couldn't think straight enough to be mad when he held me like this, his breath stirring my hair.

"She's wonderful Spot! Oh, she's beautiful!"

_Huh?_

"I'll leave her to you?"

_Huh?!_

"Yes, of course! Get out so we can start! I hardly have enough time as it is!"

_HUH?!_

Spot's warmth was suddenly gone from around me. I turned slightly toward him, missing it instantly. His hands on my arms turned me completely.

"Be nice."

He kissed me on the cheek, and with a smirk and a wink he was gone.

Medda cleared her throat quietly behind me, and - forcing my brain to work - I turned to her with a smile.

"Hello, ma'am. My name is Brandy, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

We both curtsied, no spit-shaking here.

"Medda, the Swedish Meadowlark."

She replied with a charming grin and a fake Swedish accent.

"Come Dear! We have a lot to do, and I want to know all about Brooklyn these days!"

She wrapped a companionable arm around me and flashed a sly grin.

"That Spot's a charmer isn't he?"

* * *

An hour later found us laughing like old friends. Medda was funny and sweet, she acted more my age then her own.

Freshly washed and shaved for the first time in days, we sat in her pink dressing room, attempting to work the last few tangles out of my hair. Medda had been at it for at least half an hour already as we spoke about this or that.

I had told her all about my time with the Brooklyn Newsies, but nothing from before, and she had been kind enough not to ask. She had told me about how she came to be the 'Swedish Meadowlark' and how she knew Jack's parents.

She told me every detail about the strike and the different territories responses to Spot's involvement. My respect for him grew the more she spoke. She also told me that Corkscrew wasn't lying: it really had taken four men to take down Spot the night of the rally. He had sacrificed himself for some of his boys. Everything I heard about him turned him into more of a legend and less of a man.

Medda glanced at the clock on the mantle. We had a little less then an hour left before the boys would start showing up. My hair shone like fire in the lights, silken strands cascading around me.

"Now for a dress. You won't need much makeup, you're blessed with a pretty complexion. Besides, if you come out all painted up Spot might kill me. Have to keep that in mind as we pick out a dress."

She continued talking, but it was more to herself then to me. I followed her across the room, and with a flourish Medda yanked open the double doors, standing aside with a wink.

The costume room was vast. I'd never seen so many eccentric dresses in one place.

"First we need to decide on a color. We can work on style from there. Size shouldn't be a problem; the dresses are made to be easily modified."

I wandered through the racks, Medda flitting around me, flipping through the shades and designs with nimble fingers.

"Ah ha!"

Her cry of triumph came from a section that appeared to be predominantly green.

"I found the color! Now you go put on these stockings and I'll bring you the dress as soon as I find it!"

Deciding it was better not to argue, I nodded mutely and turned, resigned to my frilled fate.

In the end the dress was forest green, to 'bring out my eyes'. Medda had to let up the hem slightly, and pull in the waist while letting out the chest, but she insisted it was worth it.

The skirt fell to the floor, but it was pulled up on the left side to above the knee. The scoop neck had lace that was slightly more tempting then anything I had ever worn before. My hair was half up, the other half tumbling my back in sharp contrast to the softly shimmering green fabric.

I sat in front of the mirror in Medda's powder room, holding perfectly still as she played with different makeup and jewelry. We spoke and laughed about different things until there came a thump echoing from outside.

"Oh! That must be the boys!"

I felt suddenly nervous.

"Am I ready?"

Medda smiled at me gently.

"You're beautiful."

She moved to the side, and I saw my reflection. The makeup was light, kohl on my eyes and green powder dusted on my eyelids. My eyelashes had been curled and darkened, my lips were full and pink.

The small emerald teardrop earrings on silver setting matched the necklace draped around my neck. I took a cautious step, watching how my left leg and the green heel that adorned it slipped in and out of the folds of fabric.

I felt beautiful for the first time in…well…a long time.

I turned to Medda and gave her a wide smile.

"Thank you. Thank you so much!"

"I didn't give you anything that you didn't already have when you got here."

I laughed. She grinned sheepishly.

"Except a dress and possibly some shoes."

She conceded gracefully.

"And after the party I would like to give a few more."

My eyes widened.

"Oh no! I simply couldn't!"

"Come now, I have far too many clothes, and you don't have nearly enough. Besides, look at it as if I'm only lending them to you. As soon as you buy some of your own you can give them all back!"

I blushed with happiness.

"Thank you Medda! You don't know how much all of this means to me!"

We smiled at each other, then she clapped her hands once.

"Now, let's get this celebration started!"

Linking arms, we went to let the Newsies in.

**

* * *

There it is! Please Review!!! ( See A/N at top )**

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	14. With Spot

**_A/N:_ Thank you so much. I always write a few chapters ahead, so I wasn't planning to release this one for a few weeks. But all my reviewers were so beautifully supportive, I decided to reward you. I apologize that it's so short!!**

**Chapter 13: With Spot**

* * *

Spot meandered back towards Tibby's, his eyes clouded with thought.

Was it safe to leave her with Medda?

Should he go back?

The Brooklyn leader paused, considering.

He should, he decided.

He would get her and take her straight back to Brooklyn, where she was safe. Where he could protect her.

Then he turned back around, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

He couldn't ditch the party. He had appearances to keep up. Spot had a loop with his boys that had quickly turned into a noose. He just didn't know who it was hanging yet.

He paused yet again at the entrance to an alleyway. The alleyway where Warren had beaten Brandy, causing her to run into Brooklyn's dangerous night. Where she had found her way into his grateful arms.

He just stood there until another memory surfaced. One of heat and need. One that had made his very being electric. A moment that had happened right here.

He had been so close.

So close to what he wanted.

What he dreamed of.

But that blasted Kid Blink had shown up.

Spot clenched his fist. He should soak the Cyclops.

Then his fingers relaxed.

No, no.

Brandy would be upset. She looked worried enough when he and some of the other boys sparred. He thought she was going to cry when he and Tiky had gone viciously at each other with wooden poles. Not to mention the alarm on her face when he'd taken on both Tiky _and_ Diego.

He smiled, she had been worried about him without reason. He wasn't Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn, for nothing.

Smirking cockily and ignoring the appreciating glances he received from girls on the street, Spot continued calmly on his way.

* * *

When he arrived at Tibby's, Spot found all of his boys milling anxiously outside. They watched with apprehension as he approached them alone.

Manhattan Newsies peeked out of the windows in confusion.

Spot's smirk widened; this was the closest his boys had ever come to open rebellion.

He was proud of them.

Corkscrew walked forward, stopping slightly to the side of his leader, his left shoulder bumping Spot's right. Both boys continued to stare ahead, neither one acknowledging the another.

Cork spoke first, his voice low.

"Where is she?"

Spot's smirk almost turned into a full fledged smile.

"I left her broken in a dark alley."

Cork growled, some of the boy's shifting nervously as they read Spot's lips.

Spot actually chuckled, making his second-in-command tense.

"She's with Medda, _Mother_."

Cork relaxed, letting out a sigh as he grinned widely.

"Never doubted you."

"Course not."

The tension left the Brooklynites as the two walked back to the diner together, but they asked no questions.

"Anyone been inside?"

Spot addressed his Newsies. There was a chorus of 'no's. He adopted a look of mock horror.

"Come now! We don't want Jacky-boy to think Brooklyn is unsociable, do we?"

The boys laughed, moving to go inside. But Spot's commanding voice stopped them.

"Oh, and lads? Let's keep our goil a secret, shall we?"

Somberly, the Newsies agreed, and Spot opened the door and waltzed into Tibby's the way any true Brooklynite would; Just like he owned the place.

**

* * *

There it is! Please Review!!! More substantial chapters (-; at the party ;-) on the way!**

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	15. An Entrance to Remember

**_A/N:_ Thank you so much. I always write a few chapters ahead, so I wasn't planning to release this one for a few weeks. But all my reviewers were so beautifully supportive, I decided to reward you!**

**Chapter 14: An Entrance to Remember**

* * *

Eight card games and ten dollars later, Spot stood from the table, stretching with a sigh.

"We should be going boys."

Slowly the Brooklyn Newsies rose; pretending they hadn't been counting the seconds until this moment. Together, Manhattan and Brooklyn poured out into the street.

They attracted quite a bit of attention. Flocks of boys walking and clowning around in the practically empty streets.

Jack, Mouth, Racetrack, Kid Blink, Spot, Cork, Indy, and Diego led the precession, laughing and talking loudly on the way to Medda's.

Smirking widely at the people they passed, Spot was shouting on the inside. He was desperate to see her.

What had Medda done?

What would the other boys think?

He wanted them to like her, but not want her.

She belonged to Brooklyn.

She belonged to _him_.

It took all his self control not the race to the theater now and steal her away.

Unfortunately, some of the boys didn't have the same self restraint. Spot stuck out his cane, slamming it into Haru's chest as he raced by. The younger boys stopped to help him up, staring at their leader.

"Wait."

He mouthed to them, eyes commanding.

Grumbling, the boys dropped behind them.

"What was that about?"

Mouth was watching him, eyes suspicious.

"Nothing Mouth."

A vein throbbed in the other boy's forehead.

"Davey. My name is Davey."

Spot just stared at him coolly.

One of the younger boys jumped up onto a dumpster, the noise echoing down the street to the theater doors.

Jack turned to say something to Davey, surprise flitting through his sky blue eyes when he found the boy locked in a staring contest with Spot Conlon.

It was obvious, however, who was winning. Davey's chocolate eyes were hardly threatening, while Spot seemed to radiate power without even thinking about it.

Jack stepped in quickly, saving his friend from himself.

"Hey, Davey. Davey!"

Reluctantly the curly haired boy turned to look at him.

"Is Sara comin?"

Davey looked slightly confused for as second, then snapped back into himself. Spot's eyes tended to have that effect on people.

"What? Tonight?"

Jack shifted slightly, bordering on nervous.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, she is. Les went to get her."

Jack nodded quietly, then focused back on the road, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

Davey turned back to Spot, only to find the Brooklyn leader was engaged in a hissed debate with Corkscrew. With a resigned sigh, he moved position, joining in on a conversation between Blink and Diego concerning the whereabouts of the Mayor's daughter last Saturday night.

* * *

"I don't know!"

"Whaddaya mean you don't know?!"

"I mean I left her with Medda, who knows what's happened!"

The argument had been going on like that for a while, both teens highly strung.

Spot because Brandy was gone, and Cork because of Spot being absurdly tense for such a fun filled evening. He'd almost bitten Mouth's head off!

Suddenly Spot seemed to relax, confidence and calm oozing off him. Cork had always admired that about his King, the ability to radiate the mood of his choice. It was only then that he realized they were in front of the theater doors.

The doors were unlocked, and the boys flooded in. The last ones had to shove and push to get over the threshold, because, for some reason, all the boys at the front had frozen at the base of the stairs.

Hundreds of pair of eyes stared upwards, filled with awe and love filled admiration. Every Brooklynite grinned proudly, many of them shedding their grins quickly when they saw how their Manhattan friends gawked unabashed.

Silence fell again as two figures climbed the stairs.

Jack grinned at Medda, kissing her on the cheek in greeting, She beamed at the boys below her, her little orphans.

But all the eyes on the floor followed the respected Spot Conlon as he stopped a few steps below the figure causing all the commotion.

She was beautiful.

In front of all the startled Newsies the King of Brooklyn bowed deeply before her. There was a sharp intake of breath from the assembled crowd as she dropped into a perfect curtsy. Whoever she was, she was a Lady.

Spot Conlon held out an arm and, smiling demurely, she took it.

"My fellow Newsies," His voice rang out over the gathered boys. "I would like to introduce you to Brandy, the first goil to be granted the protection of the Brooklyn Lodging House. It is your pleasure to meet her."

There was a stunned silence, then, suddenly, the room came to life. They were whoops and cheers as the boys swarmed up the steps to meet her.

Brandy was swept with Spot to the set up tables, theirs was the largest, and she sat between Spot and Corkscrew, Diego claiming the seat directly behind her and Indy the seat directly across. She was surrounded, but not suffocated.

The Newsies were loud, and the evening was filled with laughter and song.

After the first two hours she had met every person there, and could only remember one third of the names.

As she stood and moved around the tables there was always a Brooklyn boy by her side, and her gaggle of kids had expanded, not including all the Manhattan children as well.

She had been introduced to the boys from the cart incident, they all sat with her. Jack Kelly, Racetrack, and Davey - the boy Spot called 'Mouth' and, according to the one-eyes Kid Blink, disliked greatly.

Much turned out to be a real charmer. He got hit twice over the back of the head by Specs for being 'overly friendly'.

Brandy thought they were wonderful.

"Kid?"

"Huh?"

"You don't have to answer if you think I'm being to forward, but I am a horribly curious person."

By this time everyone at the table was listening.

The redhead looked slightly embarrassed, but there was sincerity in her green eyes.

"What-what happened to your eye?"

A grin slowly spread across his face.

"What to see something cool?"

Brandy smiled and cocked her head slightly.

"I feel obligated to tell you I'm squeamish."

The boys laughed.

"No worries."

Kid lifted the eye patch, his brown right eye watching her reaction.

Brandy's eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect 'o'.

Kid's left eye was yellow. It looked bright and alive, except where his right eye was chocolaty brown this eye was a bright yellow, much like a cat's.

"I can see through it just fine, but it tends to unnerve buyers. I chose to cover it rather then go broke."

He grinned as the brown leather eye patch slipped back into place.

"There was this one guy though, real jerk, and I swapped the eye that was covered when he wasn't looking. I thought he was gonna faint!"

They laughed together, and any tension that had been there was gone again.

**

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**

There it is! Please Review!!

**Gone Crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	16. Party Problems

**A/N: So guys, It's been a while. This time though I have an excuse. Usually I write about 6 chapters ahead, just so I don't have to stress about updating every month. Problem: I forget the chapters I've written. New Problem: I save everything on an external hard-drive to avoid viruses and because my laptop is ancient and has only enough memory space for my school work and iTunes. My cat startled me, I jumped up, my knee hit the desk drawer, the external harddrive smashed sending 5 volts of electricity through everything, wiping it all. I sent it to those CSI like ppl who retrieve fragmented info, and even they couldn't get anything. I will admit I cried and couldn't write anything for a few weeks. But now I'm back with time and a hard pressed memory. Let's see what I can scrape up, Kay?**

**Thank you for being so patient with me!! I love you guys!!**

**Wolfy101**

**Chapter 15: Party Problems**

* * *

Spot sat in silence, watching Race spin her around the cleared dance floor. The song was a country one Medda enjoyed singing with the boys, and every few lines someone else would step up for a step with the only female open for a dance.

Not that his boys would let just anyone dance with her. Only the best boys, and the ones who wouldn't step on her dress or feet were aloud close enough to touch her.

The Brooklyn King didn't take his stunning eyes off her as she threw back her head, laughing delightedly at something the her new partner – Specs – had said. She was radiant.

Another King flopped ungracefully down beside him, a glass in his hand.

"Hiya Spot."

The blue eyes slid briefly to the newcomer, a head bob showed his attention diverted.

"Some of my boys been asking about Brooklyn's girl."

The entire head turned this time, Spot's mouth a knifelike line.

"What did ya tell em?"

"That she was Brooklyn's girl."

"Damn straight. And Brooklyn ain't known for sharing."

Cowboy's eyes narrowed slightly, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Brooklyn? Or you?"

There was no laughter at his statement, but no denial either.

"Does it matter?"

The Brooklynite's voice was hard and cold, his eyes flaming. Jack felt himself starting to squirm under their onslaught.

"Course not. Just letting you know."

"Hm."

His cerulean eyes slipped back to her, where she was now bent slightly over to accommodate her new fan, Mouth's little brother.

_Brooklyn? Or you?_

The words echoed in his head, and a smirk twisted his lips.

He _was_ Brooklyn.

And she was his.

It was over an hour later, after dark had crept through the streets that I was able to slip away for some much needed air. The boys were in the middle of a rousing rendition of 'Seize the Day', and my feet couldn't handle any more dancing. I must have danced with everyone!

Holding up the hem of my wonderful dress, I wandered down the front steps, cool air caressing my bare skin from one half open door. Light from the foyer spilled out a small ways, casting a golden glow on a tiny triangle of the black street.

A figure darted past the light.

Chills ran down my spine. Everyone was inside, right?

The figure passed again, outlined for an instant in shadow. It appeared male, the shadow distorted by the bowler on his head.

I did a quick metal check of Newsies with bowlers I had met tonight. There hadn't been many. Cautiously I moved to the door, opening it a little further so I was framed in light. Still the figure remained elusive.

"Specs? That you?"

The outline moved slightly, but remained silent in the street.

"Race? Racetrack, come inside. The song's almost done, and it's dark out. Newsie or not, it's not safe out alone."

The figure moved closer, skirting the light so that he was only a few feet away but still in shadow. He was tall, taller then I was.

Specs then.

"I can barley see you."

I smiled, trying to ignore the doubt in my stomach as I held out my hand.

"Brandy?"

I spun, staring up the stairs to where Spot, Race, Jack and Specs were watching me in mild amusement.

"Who are you-"

Hands came from the darkness, one around my waist and one around my chest. I had a fleeting frame of Spot, eyes wide and face contorted jumping into the air after me before I was wrenched into the black street.

My nostrils were assaulted by the stench of string alcohol, and fear made me numb, turning my limbs against me. One scream tore from my gut, a high pitched terrified keel that turned somewhere into a word.

"Brooklyn!"

A meaty hand came up over my mouth and nose, suffocating me. A roar came from somewhere in front of me, and a strong figure was framed by golden light. My mind snapped into reality just as my teeth chomped down on my oppressors hand, and my high heel made hard contact with his knee.

He let out a hoarse cry, shoving me from him. I stumbled onto the sidewalk, then threw myself forward, straight into a wall of solid muscle.

Arms reflexively came up around me, a soft smell of paper, musk, and something else replacing the sharp stench of spirits. Everything in me relaxed.

Spot.

His voice reverberated to my head through his chest.

"Go! I want him here! No one take action alone, he's mine!"

I could feel more then see the boys spilling out around us, splitting up to find my attacker.

I was trembling.

"Shhh. Shhh. I got you. Your safe."

My words came out on gasps, as I suddenly fought the urge to cry.

"I thought it was Warren-- I couldn't fight -- I couldn't think--I was helpless again -- I didn't want him to hurt you--"

Powerful arms tightened possessively around me as his face buried into my hair. His hot whisper stealing over my skin took my ability to talk.

"You don't have to fight. We'd die for you, and you can't stop us. Don't try. This is what Brooklyn really is. Family."

He was holding me tightly against him, so tightly I felt like I was becoming a part of him. His strength was mine, and my weakness his.

I couldn't stand, but he held me up so that no one would have to know.

* * *

"Spot? We've got them. I'll take care of it. They're a Manhattan problem, the Delancy bruddas."

"No."

Spot's eyes flashed as he looked murderously out around the loosened hair of Brooklyn's new edition.

Jack felt himself shrivel and die inside from their strength.

"Spot-"

"You didn't handle the problem well enough. It spread to Brooklyn, and Ill show you how we handle problems that shouldn't be ours."

The imposing teen rolled his muscular shoulders in an intimidating way despite the terrified girl in his embrace.

The air was suddenly supercharged, and every Manhattener felt the Brooklynites shift into a more aware state.

Spot felt a small hand splay itself on his chest, applying slight pressure. Ignoring the desire it welled in him, he looked down into her bright green eyes.

"Don't Spot. I'm okay."

"No, your not."

His voice was a low growl that made her hand tingle.

"And someone's got to prove that no one can upset you and stay standing."

His eyes bore into hers, almost begging her to unleash him on her enemies.

And she could deny him nothing.

Letting out a plaintive sigh Brandy stepped away, passing herself into Medda's fluttering hands as Spot turned his dangerous eyes to two new targets.

The two men were on their knees, drunk enough to have bad judgement, but sober enought to do everything they thought of.

"What does Brooklyn propose Spot?"

Jack's voice was unsure, his palms sweating. Spot smirked, the cold hate in his eyes making it hellish.

"Propose? I don't propose anything. I challenge."

"Challenge?"

"Two on one. Last man standing gets to walk away."

"And the loser?"

The smirk began a grin.

"The losers bleed."

**

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What do you think?

**Have I lost it?**

**A fight is next, and you don't wanna miss it!**

**Review!!**

**Gone crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	17. A Brooklyn Solution

**Here we go! **

**Chapter 16: A Brooklyn Solution**

* * *

"What do you think boys? Two on one?"

His voice was a dangerous purr, stepping around jack's uncertainty and leaving it up to a mob decision. The Manhatteners quickly caught the excitement radiating off their guests, and joined them in forming a circle out in the street. The largest and most prominent boys lined it, keeping the opponents from the spectators and vice versa.

The two bothers were released, circling like vultures as Spot stood calmly in the center. He had passed his hat slingshot, and cane to Diego, who stood confidently holding them at Brandy's side.

She and Medda were standing on a shoe-shiner's platform with a clear view of the crude fighting ring.

"The ugly one in the bowler's Oscar, the even uglier one is his brudda." Kid Blink was standing below her, his head even with her waist. "We shoulda taken care of them during the strike."

Oscar lunged, Spot stepping neatly out of the way and slamming his fist into his neck as he went by.

The other brother, Uglier, went for Spot from behind. He swung one solid fist, the Head Newsie fluidly ducking and spinning, coming up with an uppercut to the boy's jaw.

Oscar was doing something on the ground that elicited hisses from the crowd. When he stood, brass knuckles shone in the lamplight. He and his brother fell back slightly, Spot smirking.

"Finally it's getting worthwhile."

The brothers once again began to circle, until Oscar was opposite his sibling with Spot between. The two moved at the same time, Oscar throwing everything into his right arm, the one now tipped with metal. Uglier had both arms out, blocking any attempt at another graceful dodge.

Spot dropped his torso backwards and to the side while his feet stayed in place, landing in an odd looking crab-like position. Thinking fast, he flipped up his legs, slamming them into Uglier's face, sending him to the ground.

Spot was only in the handstand for a second, the entire maneuver extremely quick, but that was all Oscar needed. He caught himself and used his momentum to spin, his right fist colliding with the Brooklyn King's side.

Fabric and skin ripped as Spot lost his balance, gravity speeding his decent to the asphalt. Oscar leapt over the moaning form of his bother and rushed the grounded Leader.

The Newsies yelled, their voices both insulting and rallying; but the new the rules of the duel. There was nothing they could do.

Brandy could feel the Newsies around her. Kid Blink had moved slightly, preparing to catch her should she faint. She was too terrified to faint though, her entire being focused on the mess of men before her. Blood was staining the tatters of Spot's shirt, and he appeared stunned.

Oscar was sneering, his knuckled fist drawn back to finished off the fight with a blow to the face.

"SPOT!!"

Her voice was high and scared, breaking through the Newsie's noise. Oscar faltered, and the King came back to life.

Spot flipped over away from Oscar into a push up position, then rose lithely to his feet. He reached up with one hand, taking a fistful of his worn, stained, and torn shirt and pulling. It easily came away in his hand, leaving him bare to the waist.

Brandy was the closest she had been to fainting so far.

He was amazing, a statue brought to life.

The summer's tan was just starting to fade on his smooth skin, taut over sculpted muscles. His side was missing a chunk of skin, blood slowly seeping down his side.

Spot tossed his head, getting the hair out of his face.

Oscar was helping his brother up, keeping one eye on the wounded Brooklynite.

He was grinning.

In a terrifying, ominous, care-free way, Spot was grinning.

Diego let out a relieved sigh, turning to Brandy with a comforting smile.

"It's over."

Just as he spoke the Delancy's rushed Spot.

The Herculean Newsie let out a whoop, then laid them both flat. His hits were powerful and well placed, his kicks taking out knees and breaking ribs.

Then, just as Diego said, it was over.

Two heads hit the asphalt with sickening, resounding, _thwacks_.

The circle broke on one side, and boys lifted the floored brothers into the crowd amidst crude jeers. Boys crowded from everywhere, sweeping Medda back into the party, singing Spot's praises, and sparing on the stairs.

The man himself was smirking, nodding to the awed boys who stayed out around him.

Brandy took the hands Kid and Diego offered, then followed them to the rowdy group enveloping Spot.

The crowd parted for them, boys going silent at the serious expression on the face of Brooklyn's angel. Her escorts led her right to the King., who was being jostled good naturedly between Race, Jack, Cork and Indy.

Kid and Diego had caught her aura, and neither were grinning, a strange sight in and of itself.

Spot stopped before them, raising his chin slightly and narrowing his eyes at them in haughty confusion.

The two parted, her stunningly clad form stepping lightly through. Spot's expression turned – for one priceless moment – to chagrin. Everyone still outside stayed quite, watching in anticipation of something unknown.

Spot opened his mouth, but her voice came out first.

"Newsies fight, and boys will be boys. I may not like it, but I don't bang my head against walls I can't move. But if you think I'm going to let you drip blood all over Medda's floor, you are extremely mistaken Spot Conlon."

Then her eyes sparkled and her lips slowly formed a tender smile.

"C'mon, let's get you a little less bloody. This is a party!"

The boys began to cheer, swarming after their comrades inside where the first strains of music were picking up again.

She held out her hand to him and raised her eyebrows.

He gave her a genuine smile, one that was soft and made her heart skip beats. Then he reached forward, and put his hand in hers.

"Lead on, dear Lady."

**

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**

Review!! Tell me what you thought!!

**Gone crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	18. Healing Hormones

**Here we go! **

**Short, just a little peak inside Spot's mind.**

**Chapter 17: Healing Hormones**

* * *

Spot sat silently before one of Medda's floor length dressing room mirrors, watching in the reflection as Brandy gathered a water bowl and some rags to go with the strips of gauze she found that were props in a play Medda hosted last season.

This was honestly the last place he had expected to be tonight. Sitting in an eccentric pink room with a beautifully arranged woman he had rescued feeling morally responsible for a wound he got being careless. One stupid lax in concentration and she would pay more then he.

As soon as they had entered backstage he had felt her bravado fading, felt her withdrawing again. She had gone from being touchable, warm – though trembling – in his arms to untouchable in less then an hour.

He wanted to shake her. Spot clenched his fists against his frustration, pushing it down in a very un-Brooklynite manner.

He had to wait.

She'd be worth it.

If she wasn't nothing was.

"Lift your arm?"

There was an unspoken 'please' in her request, a wasted effort by Indy and Cork to give her a more street-worthy mouth.

The seated male raised his arm, giving her access to the entire abrasion. He suddenly wondered belatedly what he currently smelt like. Spot glanced down at the top of her head, all he could see of her pale face and lithe form as she began to dab away the blood from his taut skin.

"I'm sorry if this hurts."

Brandy's voice was small, as if she expected his to lash out at her.

Damn it, she'd retracted to how she was months ago! Spot clenched his defined jaw, unable to respond the was he would have liked.

Her deft fingers ghosted over his supple tanned flesh, dancing around the edges of his cut. He felt no pain. He would later, he knew. After she was gone from sight his badly bruised – maybe even cracked – ribs would send daggers of pain to his core as the opening in his side throbbed constantly; but for now, for this moment, the tingle of her skin on his kept all else at bay.

The Newsie King closed his eyes slowly, focusing on her movements. He let his mind run off track.

He visualized the sensations if her hands were not wiping blood from a wound, but were instead flat on his toned stomach, sliding up through the crisp golden fuzz on his sculpted to wrap around his shoulders. Suddenly he tingled everywhere, not just his side; his heartbeat accelerating as every muscle in his body relaxed to jelly, then hardened again to steel.

"Spot?"

Guilty but ever alert blue eyes shot open as he wrenched in a deep breath. Brandy was leaning over him, a concerned expression on her face.

It wasn't her face that held his bewildered attention though. She was a mere few inches from his face, almost bent double with her legs just between his.

Spot's body automatically went into overdrive; his hands itching to pull her into his lap and let his mouth finally devour hers, let his lips wander hotly down the satin column of her neck-

"Spot, are you alright?"

He snapped once again into reality, staring hard into her eyes. Their green depths warm and caring. They reminded him that this was Brandy.

_Brandy_.

He wouldn't just take her like he could the street girls who stopped occasionally by the Lodging House. She was beautifully fragile. She was a powerful star that his own boys would revolt for. She was a mystery he was both desperate and unwilling to solve.

She was Brandy.

And when he took her, it would be because she wanted him. Because she was willing to become the only Queen Brooklyn would ever have.

Spot was shocked with himself, but he realized it was exactly what he wanted.

He wanted her to choose him.

He'd already made his choice.

"Spot! Stop staring and answer me! You're making me worried."

Brandy looked cute when she got a little mad, the frustration in her eyes making him smirk widely.

"Never better."

His cool words seemed to diffuse her temper, making her move slightly away from him.

"I can't wrap the gauze right if you're sitting."

Spot obediently responded to the unspoken command, rising to his considerable height before Brandy could successfully move away.

The bust of her dress almost brushed his bare chest with every breath she took. It used all the Newsies considerably self-control to break her gaze long enough to glance at the wrappings in her hands. Following his gaze to be reminded of her task, Brandy once again got silently to work. Both suddenly desperate top get out of the room, away from temptation.

* * *

"Did they kiss yet?"

Race shook his head from the keyhole of the door.

"Nope. Looks like the cash pot is still up for grabs."

"Geez! If someone doesn't point out soon to those two that they belong together no one's gonna win!"

Cork laughed quietly as the gambling group moved stealthily away from the door.

"I vote we make Davey do it."

"Why?"

"Spot'll finally have an excuse to hit him."

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Review!!

**I'm going to England for a month, so I won't update until August. It'll be good tho, promise!!**

**Gone crazy and Staying There,**

**Wolfy101**


	19. Home Calm Before A Storm

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Here we go!

**Chapter 18: Home**

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"You and your boys could stay here for the night…morning?"

Jack squinted at the sky, dawn not yet cresting the buildings despite the early morning hour. The boys were stumbling slowly into the street, grinning drunkenly. Occasionally a loud song line, shout, or scuffle broke out but Spot wasn't worried. His boys were under control. Over Jack's shoulder Spot could see Davey and his sister heading for home, Les tucked up in Davey's arms.

"Nah, Jacky-boy. Brooklyn calls. I'll be back in a few hours though. We need to talk about the boy who's about to take over Queens."

Jack slapped another boy on the back as he stumbled past with a mumble. He slid a look in Spot's direction.

"Have you heard from him yet?"

Cold eyes surveyed the night through a haze of ice.

"He has yet to pay his homage as a new leader to Brooklyn."

"Manhattan hasn't heard from him either. Not a good way to start."

Brandy passed then, Haru dozing in her arms and her shoes hanging from one finger. The discussion ended, Spot languidly moving after her. The Brooklynites, who had been milling in the street moved in the direction he did, following him into the city night.

"Let me take him."

Brandy glanced up at the almost-man, his voice low and soft.

"It's alright. You're not doing so hot yourself if you've forgotten."

His eyes twinkled at her.

"I'm always hot, and I'm not the one in bare feet. That's not a good idea in this city dear."

Brandy tossed her head in as proud a manner she could, bolstering her recently acquired courage back. And trying to ignore the molten lava trickling down her neck at his endearment.

"I'm fine Spot. How is your side?"

A smirk twisted his lips.

"Aching actually. Maybe you should carry _me_ home."

"If I wasn't holding Haru I would hit you."

"No you wouldn't."

"No, I wouldn't, but you're not supposed to call me out on it."

Spot gestured to Diego, who – though tipsy – plucked Haru from Brandy's distracted arms. She opened her mouth in a perfect 'O', but couldn't say anything because of the King's next move. Deftly, as if he was fresh as a daisy instead of battle bruised, he swung an arm around her, then pulled her up against his chest in his arms.

"Spot!"

Her voice was a squeak, his smirk wider then it had been all night.

"Put me down!"

"Brandy, only one of us is walking home tonight. I carry you, or you carry me."

The redhead glowered at him as best she could. But her feet was stinging from the blisters given by the shoes, and his arms did feel amazing around her. His chest was firm against her arm, the bare skin gleaming like bronze.

Brandy did a double take.

"Spot, where's your shirt? Medda said she'd give you one!"

The King turned onto the Bridge

"You have a problem with my chest? I worked hard on it."

Brandy was thankful the lights on the bridge were weaker then the street lamps. She must be red as a lobster.

"You'll catch a cold."

Spot felt a thrill enter his chest like a hot blast of air.

"You didn't answer my question."

Brandy was staring at where her knees were supported by his other arm.

"What question?"

The bandaged man wished desperately he had a third arm to tilt up her chin. He wanted to look into those enchanting eyes of hers.

"Does my bare chest insult you?"

She could hear the scandalous hint in his tone, the suggestion in the whisper he said so only she could hear.

"Or does it scare you because you can't stop thinking about it?"

Brandy let out a gasp, wriggling against him to try and get out of his arms. All he did was pull her closer, almost crashing her forehead into the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

"Whenever you see me from now on will you picture me without my shirt?"

That jerk! She could hear the laughter in his voice. The joy he was taking from all of this. Yet her voice refused to come out. And as much as she fought, she still didn't want him to put her down.

"Spot?"

"Yes?"

He was obviously expecting a confession, and he was going to get one, just not the one he wanted.

"I'm really happy I got to go today. I'm really happy you're all right, and I'm- I'm just really happy I suppose."

Spot almost stopped walking. She had mumbled it, probably because she was tired, her head starting to lie gently on his shoulder, but it didn't matter.

She was happy.

And suddenly he felt like he could run miles, climb mountains, swim oceans, fight armies, and still have energy to do everything he dreamed of with her.

She was happy.

Spot quickly tried to regain himself, clearing his throat even as he leaned one side of his jaw on her head.

"And my chest has nothing to do with it?"

"Not much."

"Much? But it still has a part?"

Spot walked off the bridge, turning down the road for home. His boys were lagging behind, they didn't have pure light in their arms to keep them energized.

"Spot, just take me home."

His heart leapt erratically in his chest.

_Home._

"Of course dear."

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Sorry I took so long!! One last cute chapter before the bad juju ahead hits. I hate what I have to do, but otherwise the story just won't go anywhere.

****

**Hold on tight and let me know you're along for the ride!!**

**_

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_****__**

Preview

"**Spot! Spot!!"**

"**Oh, god. Oh please God no. NO!!"**

"**I'm not letting you in till you calm down."**

"**For Christ's sake Francis Sullivan, I need your help. I Need Your Help!"**

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Gone crazy and Staying There,

**Wolfy101**


	20. Not According to Plan

**Here we go!! Look out, climactic leeches ahead!**

**Chapter 19: Not According to Plan**

* * *

He hated that cat. He just did.

The fat Tomcat had been around since two weeks after he became Head of Brooklyn. He was a ratty gray blob with green eyes and a relatively even coat. The boy's had named him 'Joe' in honor of Manhattan's News Printer King.

He would rather have the man. But NOT in the same position.

Spot sat at one of the dilapidated card tables in the common room, watching through slitted eyes. Across the room the large cat was spread on his back across her legs, his nose pressed into her stomach beneath her chest as she scratched his chin absently.

He could picture himself in it's place, her hand brushing the hair gently from his forehead after her was in a fight or an argument. He imagined smiling up at her as she looked down at him, a strand of red hair falling over her shoulder to tickle his face. He could almost feel the silken lock between his fingers.

But he wasn't there. Joe was. Damn, he was jealous. Of a cat.

Spot growled, slamming his fist onto the table and looking sharply to where Diego and Cork were haggling over a cigarette.

"We're sparring."

They called after him, but he was already out of the room, his shoulders tight. He needed to relieve some tension.

Two hours later the boys were shirtless and glistening in the sunset, staffs in hand as they lunged across the wooden planks of the docks at each other.

"Spot! Spot!"

Haru was running towards the docks, a large bundle of flowers with legs following him. The bouquet was bright for the season, and her smile was radiant as she repositioned them so that she could se the boys out over the water.

"Someone sent Brandy flowers today!"

With a vicious thrust Spot toppled a mountain of wooden crates. The anger from before was suddenly back.

Cork watched him through his sweat soaked bangs. Something was wrong. Spot still wore bandages from Medda's, and today's exercise had set the white fabric to the crimson of blood. What made him push so far?

"Really? How odd."

Was the only reply the leader made as he turned towards the two. Haru was already halfway to them, Brandy was cradling the flowers, one daisy falling to the sidewalk in front of the docks. She leant to pick it up as an elegant carriage pulled out of an alleyway behind her.

It happened so quickly Spot barley had time to start running. Brandy started to rise, the flower to her nose as the carriage screeched to a stop behind her. A large man leant out the open door, his long arms easily encircling her waist.

"Oh god. Oh please god no. NO!"

Spot was in full sprint, passing Haru as the arms tightened. Her eyes met his, her mouth opening, mouthing his name as the flowers rained down between them. Then she was gone, swept up and into the darkness in the carriage as it careened off, back up another alley and into the night.

Spot stopped, staring down at the crushed flower under the toe of his boot. The ground was littered with them, scattered and pushed by the wind. He could still smell her.

Cork and Diego came abreast of him, Haru sobbing loudly in Diego's arms. There was no time.

"Diego, take Haru and go back up to the house. I want quarantine. Everyone inside. Tell them there's been an accident, any guy who leaves has to answer to me. Put Graze in charge. Then I want you, Indy, Reaper, Gauze, and Tics to follow me to Manhattan. Pass the Lodging House there. If I'm not outside, wait for me at the first main street before Medda's."

Diego's usually dark skin was pale, but he nodded somberly.

"Cork, you're with me."

Then he was running. Spot didn't look behind to make sure they were obeying. They were loyal to him, and even if they weren't, they were loyal to her.

* * *

Jack Kelly paused on the Lodging House steps, turning to look back into the night. The mist was creeping softly into the streets, a chill sweeping down. The days were still cold, and he knew some of the younger boys needed new coats. Maybe he would stop by Brooklyn. He'd noticed at Medda's that all their clothes had been patched real nice, and Brandy would be too kind to turn down his plea for help. She was a good girl.

His deep eyes turned to the window, lights and shadows playing across the living room window. Jack pulled out his second-to-last cigar, lighting it up as he leant against the wall. This place was home. But as of two weeks ago Jack Kelly was 18. He couldn't be a Newsie forever. And he couldn't expect Davey's family to hand Sara too a social-cesspool dweller like him. He couldn't support both of them the way he wanted to.

He had to start doing what every leader dreaded: picking a predecessor. Davy would leave when he did, but Race still had a year or two. He couldn't take the responsibility though.

Jack sighed out a long stream of smoke. Sometimes he wished he could just stop time.

The front door opened, light spilling down the steps. Specs stuck his head out, grinning when he spotted Jack.

"Anyone still out?"

Specs shook his head.

"On Tuesday night? Nah. Just Tony I think."

Jack turned to look back up the deserted street, a blob moving in the mist.

"That must be him."

Spec's reply faded in Jack's ears as another figure appeared on the heels of the first, his hair bobbing with each step, the curls flying wildly. Only one guy had hair like that. The leader of the two became clearer suddenly, and Jack's cigar fell from his lips.

"Get inside."

"Wha-"

"Get inside!!"

The Manhattan king threw himself through the doorjamb as Spot reached the bottom step. He almost had it closed when Spot slammed into the thick wooden door.

"Goddamn it Jack! Open the door!"

The wood planks opened an inch.

"Spec's, push!"

An inch closed.

Cork joined Spot, the two of them gaining another few inches.

"Jack, open the door damn you!"

Jack grimaced.

Spot was pissed. Fit to kill. And he must be after one of Manhattan's boys otherwise he wouldn't be here.

"No! Not until you calm down!"

"I am calm!"

"Bullshit!"

"Jack, open it! NOW!"

He almost faltered. Specs and he swapped a look. Cork never yelled. He was happy-go-lucky, even in the midst of brawls. The commotion was drawing attention. Race stuck his head into the hall, his eyes widening.

"Race, give us a hand!."

"Racetrack, make Jack open this goddamn door!"

The gambler's eyes went as large as dinner plates.

"Is that-"

"Yes! Now help us hold him out!"

Race reached behind him, yanking Kid Blink out of his chair.

"C'mon, we gotta hold Brooklyn out!"

With four against two the door slowly began to moan shut.

"I need your help."

Jack had his face pressed up against the door, his nose almost in the gap, which is why he heard the low growl.

His blood froze in his veins.

"Francis Sullivan, I need your help, and by God I'll have it."

Spot didn't stop to consider the words., he already knew how powerful they were.

There was a silence, then the huge door swung in, the disheveled Manhatteners staring out tentatively.

"What is it Spot? What's wrong?"

Spot's fists were clenched, his cane forgotten him his belt loop as blood seeped though his bandages and down his side. Cork looked ready to burst, his shoulders shaking as he glared.

"Spot?"

"If I had the time, I would kill you."

Jack flinched slightly.

"I don't have the time though. Someone's taken Brandy."

Jack felt like he'd been hit in the chest. Why would someone take her? She was a good girl. Like Sarah. If someone took Sarah…

"What do you need?"

Spot gave him a grudgingly grateful look.

"Your strongest. Not more then 6 though, we can't stand out. Send Fox to the police, tell them to go to where Main and Hargrave meet. We'll have someone waiting to meet them."

Spot held out a crumpled sheet with the street names scrawled on it.

"No problem. Specs, give this to Fox. Race, get Ice and Mace."

His boys moved at a run, obeying the glares from the Brooklynites as much as Jack's commands.

Kid leant up against the battered doorframe, his eye closed. Cork collapsed against the wall, Jack retrieved his fallen cigar and offered it to Spot. He refused.

"What happened Spot? How did she-"

"There was nothing he could do!"

Cork's angry hiss made Jack look guiltily away.

"Men. In a carriage. She was holding a bunch of flowers someone left for her. Probably them so she'd be easy to pick out. We were at the docks sparring. Haru ran ahead of her. I was so close-"

Spot abruptly shut up, his usually controlled voice painfully raw. Kid looked away, unwilling to see Spot like this. Jack had gone pale under Cork's glowering.

"Jack? Race said Brooklyn's girl was kidnap-"

Ice, a stocky teenager with bright blonde hair and pale eyes careened down the stairs. Mace, a tall guy of African descent came after him with race at his heels. When he caught sight of Spot Ice's voice faltered, but his feet still carried him in a rush towards them.

From down the street came the a shout, and the group on the steps turned to see Diego and the rest of Spot's boys coming towards them. Cork moved to intercept them at the steps as Spot watched Jack designate a second-in-command for the night and Fox leap out a window on his mission.

Fox was the fastest messenger in the Newsie ranks, and as such he went all across New York in relative safety. The other Lodging Houses never knew when he'd come in handy.

The group of teens took off at a trot, listening as Spot explained his plans.

**

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I suck!! I know!! I'm so sorry it took so long! The next chapter will DEFINITELY be up sooner!

**Review!**

**Gone crazy and Staying there,**

**Wolfy101**


	21. Something Precious

**I'M SO SORRY!!! For those of you who are still reading I apologize with tears in my eyes. It took flying to NY and walking across the Brooklyn Bridge to bring the inspiration back. Literally. **

**Here it is though:**

**Chapter 20: Something Precious**

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The houses were all whitewashed with columns out front, some had ivy creeping up the sides, while others had cultures rose bushes or flower boxes instead. The boys moved between them like shadows, glancing into windows and inspecting carriage houses.

Spot had just uncovered a startled cat on a window sill when a whistle came from down the street, high and then low in the still night. His heart hammered in his chest, proof he was still alive despite the fact his mind was blank.

He couldn't consider the future.

Couldn't consider anything outside this exact moment.

The possibilities were just too scary.

The house was just like the others, but the window blinds were tightly shut against the lights inside. The ivy was browning at the edges, peeling from the walls as if running from the figures moving inside. Shadowy figures congregated in front of the open shed. A completely black wooden carriage gleamed sickly in the moonlight. Mace held open the well-oiled door, letting Spot see the scattered petals crushed into the carpeted interior.

"This is it."

Spot's eyes glittered like diamonds as he turned back to the assembled.

"Let's go."

They spilt into three groups, moving swiftly around the perimeter of the house. The dark ghosts checked every window, softly tries every door. Nothing was unlocked, and from what they reported when they were again before the shed, the house was holding about eight men and a few women in the dinning room.

Spot was silent, his eyes calculatingly sweeping over the house and the boys before him.

"Race, go wait for Fox and the cops. Lead them here."

The smaller boy moved away without question.

"The rest of you," Spot's smirk sent chills down Jack's spine, "pick a window."

_Knock. Knock._

The cane rapped smartly against the door.

_Knock. Knock_

Spot stepped smoothly back, Ice and Cork just out of sight on either side of the crisp white door.

The door opened after the metallic thud of a lock turning, a reedy woman with a bird-like face staring haughtily at the street King from a well lit hallway.

"Yes?"

Her voice was high pitched and scratchy, designed to make even proud men cringe.

Spot gave her a charming smile, his eyes luminous in the mist on the step.

"Good evening. I've come for what you've taken."

Shrewd eyes narrowed in offense.

"I have nothing of your _boy_."

His smile turned sickly sweet.

"Oh dear woman, but you do."

She pulled back her thin lips in a snarl over her small white teeth.

"What could I possibly have had need of from a street rat?"

Spot's cane flashed quickly out, catching the closing door and levering it open again. His smile was gone, silver eyes glowing primally.

"Something precious."

Cork lunged at the gap, slamming through the door and tackling the woman to the floor. Her elbow hit a side table, knocking a vase of flowers onto the tile floor with a smash. At her scream a window in every room shattered, the blinds splintering as teenage bodies flew into the house from every direction.

The men were large and armed, but taken completely by surprise. Reaper and Tic grabbed knives as they came through the kitchen, and Indy had a chair leg within seconds.

The fight was intense, but short. Two men made it out, the rest were quickly incapacitated.

No one was a challenge. Which made the hair on the back of Spot's neck stand on end.

Lights went on in other houses, whistles blowing as Race and Fox charged down the street with some officers in blue waving night sticks.

The officers and the boys met in the dining room, where paper money was in stacks on the table. The officers were baffled.

Spot picked up a stack of cash, tossing at the moustached one.

"Con artists."

He gestured to the woman.

"Ask her."

She spat blood at him with a growl.

As the officers and boys searched the downstairs, Spot gestured to Cork, his eyes flitting to the dark staircase.

The upper half of the house was dark, a narrow hallway filled with paintings. Doors led off to the right and the left, each one closed.

"Should we just shout her name or something?"

Cork's voice was quiet, his eyes narrowed even in the dimness.

"No. No one down there had hands big enough to fit around her throat."

Spot's voice was hard.

Cork shivered.

Spot moved to the left, bracing himself against the wall by the doorway as Cork did the same to a door across the hall. Their eyes met, Spot silently counting down.

Two hands reached for two doorknobs in the shadows, quiet panting the only sound.

3…2…1!

The doors slammed open, banging against the opposite walls as Cork and Spot filled their respective doorways in fighting stance.

A coat closet and a bathroom.

Two sighs of relief and frustration took up space between them.

They moved tensely to the next set of doors.

3…2…1!

Cork had another closet, but Spot's room was pitch black and large.

He moved cautiously into it, peering left and right.

Something solid hit his bruised shoulder, knocking the air from him as the lights flashed on, forcing his crystalline eyes shut.

"Spot!"

Cork caught himself on the doorjamb, barley avoiding a collision with the redhead racing into the hall.

"Brandy!"

"Cork!"

"Spot?"

"Brandy! Spot?"

"Brandy!"

"Oops."

Spot pushed the brass lamp off himself, taking the hand Cork offered. Jack and Indy leapt up the stairs, Jack pausing at the top as Indy charged straight on to pull a startled Brandy into a bear hug.

"We got her!"

Suddenly the landing was full of teenage boys, each one reaching for her. Their bloodstained knuckles left spots on her white dress, but no one cared. She was crying and laughing and hugging everyone, and the boys were whooping and dancing as Spot tried to clear the pain-induced splotches swimming in his vision.

"Alright boys. Let's get her home before the warden comes back."

There was more cheering, and the males lifted her onto their shoulders, sweeping her into the night and toward the Bridge.

Spot stood in the doorway, smirking at the completely lost policemen putting the battered criminals into the police carts.

He'd told Cork he'd be staying behind. He was too proud to say it, but his side was burning, and he wouldn't be able to keep up with the others going back. Brandy had a good arm, his shoulder was throbbing with every beat of his heart. Now she was safe, all he wanted to do was fall into bed for a week.

But he was Brooklyn. He was the King. He was invincible.

He had to live up to expectations.

Across the street, a tree shook, the trunk quivering as a dark figure pushed off of it. Black eyes watching the young man turn down an alley, limping slowly toward home.

He'd never make it.

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**I suck!! I know!! I'm so sorry it took so long!**

**Review please my loves!**

**Gone crazy and Staying there,**

**Wolfy101**


	22. Long Road Home

**I updated slightly faster! WIN!! ^_^**

_**A/N: "Jimmy" = nickname for a large crowbar**_

**Chapter 21: Long Road Home**

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Spot could hear the footsteps behind him, following him in rhythm.

His shoulder ached, and every step stung on his ribs. All he had to was make it to the House. The boys would be waiting for him, and no one would dare attack him if he were at the Lodge.

All he had to do was get there.

The footsteps were heavy on the Bridge. A thought crawled from the darkness of the boy's mind. He felt tension pull his shoulders slightly back.

Not possible.

Not probable.

But it wouldn't be the first time.

He nonchalantly flipped his cane over his arm, glancing in the polished gold tip. A figure in the fog.

It was early morning, the city asleep, wrapped in a thick blanket of mist. He stepped onto Brooklyn, turning down to walk along the river instead of along the main streets.

Another casual flip. Still there. Still big.

The King began to hum one of Medda's drinking songs to himself, keeping his walk slow and steady. The river itself was hidden in fog, the tendrils curling around his feet and making the buildings blurry. The House was still three or four warehouses away, the last of the very narrow allies coming up on his right.

He turned onto it and moved quickly up onto a dumpster, leaning back into the shadows while still loudly humming the boisterous tune. The figure came round the corner, in a split second Spot was on his back, slamming the cane into the junction of shoulder and spine while beating his heel's into the person's ribs.

A huge hand came calmly up, catching the Newsie King by the shirt and flipping him over the man's head. Spot hit the ground and rolled easily to his feet, ignoring the pain in his side.

The man filled the alley, his long brown coat stretched taut over massive shoulders. He was obviously over six foot, his thick fingers holding a crowbar the same way Spot held his cane.

Involuntarily Spot thought of a rhinoceros he once saw in a picture show at Medda's. Gigantic and unstoppable.

"You've taken something that belongs to me boy."

The deep growl spit the word 'boy' in contempt.

Spot felt an unfamiliar emotion mix in with his adrenaline.

He came in fast off his left foot, dodging the swing of the jimmy and whacking the head of the cane into the man's chest.

There was a satisfying 'oof', but the bulky man moved surprisingly fast, his fist catching the young man in the side of the head. Spot's ears rang, but he didn't stop, going back out into the fog filled street where there was more space to move. The boar followed him out.

"What do I have?"

Spot had a rough idea, but he had to be sure. Thin lips pulled back in a sneer.

"You know. She is mine."

"Warren."

The man smiled, rolling his shoulders.

"I've just come for what's mine."

Warren lunged forward, the jimmy above his head. The clash of Spot's cane deflecting the blow echoed through the street. Warren threw an uppercut, clipping Spot's jaw as the younger man's kick solidly connected with the elder's knee. Warren lost his balance as the King recoiled backwards.

Spot could just see Warren, his figure shadowy in the fog. The lights around the river were muted, the street deserted.

"She's not yours."

Spot was panting; breathing deeply was too painful on his ribs. Warren was back on his feet, squinting into the fog for the smaller boy.

"As long as she's afraid of the dark, as long as she remembers how worthless she is, she's mine. My little girl."

Spot's knuckles went white around his faithful cane.

"You twisted bastard."

He lunged forward, hitting Warren from the side. He dodged the jimmy, but a beefy fist slammed into his shoulder, beating his almost to the ground. His cane took out the other man's legs. As Warren hit the pavement Spot's fist connected hard with his mouth.

The King faded back into the thick mist, blood dripping from a cut on his knuckles from Warren's canines.

The bear-like man had to use the jimmy to help himself rise, spitting blood down his chin. He peered into the clouded darkness, steely eyes watching his movements.

Spot tapped his cane against his leg, the wood chipped and scarred from the hits from the metal bar warren carried. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this one. Brandy's eyes flashed against his closed lids as he took a steadying breath to ward of the tunnel vision.

The pain was excruciating.

"Boy!"

Warren's bellow was irate. Slightly frantic; crazed. The fog was blinding, suffocating. Spot wouldn't even know which way to run to get to the House.

Biting his lip until he felt blood, the Newsie King went forward at a dead run, a last attempt. He hit Warren just as the older man was turning to meet him. Then the two tumbled backwards into darkness.

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Review please my loves!

**Gone crazy and Staying there,**

**Wolfy101**


	23. Return

**I updated waaay faster! WIN!! ^_^**

**Chapter 22: Return**

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The Lodging House was silent, the steps crowded with a young woman surrounded by small children. Many of them were holding pieces of her skirt, hugging the cloth to them like it was some sort of shield. A curly haired figure walked up an alley, the woman rising slightly to lean toward him anxiously.

"Anything?"

Cork's eyes were falsely bright, his smile tight as he ruffled Haru's hair.

"Nah. But I told you: its normal. Spot disappears all the time."

Diego came out through a window. Brandy jumped, her emerald eyes closing for a second.

"I thought you went to Manhattan."

He didn't flash his normal toothy grin, solemnly addressing the odd gathering.

"I did. Came in through the back. Spot didn't sleep in the Manhattan House. Cowboy hasn't seen him since the raid. And Fox said the police still haven't found the ring leader of the operation. Some guy named-"

"Warren."

Brandy's voice was strained, her eyes shadowed. Diego just nodded silently, Cork's hand on Haru's hair pausing for an instant as he absorbed the information.

"Where are the other boys?"

"Out selling. They don't need to worry for no reason."

A small hand tugged on Brandy's skirt. She turned tired eyes to meet wide brown ones.

"Don't worry. He'll come home."

The three older teens were surprised by the confidence in Skiff's small voice. His faith brought a proud smile to Brandy's lips.

"He will. He always does. We're his family. He takes care of us."

Haru puffed up his chest.

"He's the closest thing to a father we've got. He won't desert us."

Cork and Diego stood in stunned silence, diamonds slowly falling down Brandy's cheeks.

"Of course I'd come home. Where else can I find a decent smoke?"

The words were caustic but the voice was weak, pained.

All eyes turned in shock to the shadows by the steps where a hunched figure stepped into the light.

Brandy's tears intensified as the Cork's eyes widened and Diego muttered a quick prayer.

Spot was shattered. His shirt was gone along with his shoes and bandages. His entire body was soaking wet, blood mixing with water to run in red rivulets to the ground. His lip was split and his forehead bleeding. His right hand was holding his limp left arm to his chest, the gouges on his side steadily seeping blood down his tan skin into the waistline of his trousers.

But his eyes still glittered as he met Haru's then Skiff's eyes.

"I'm back boys. Go tell the others."

Like a wave the small children lifted themselves and took off down the street whooping and laughing.

The four teens stood in silence for a second then…

"Cork. Come here."

It wasn't a command. It was a plea. The voice an almost whisper.

"My legs won't move the last steps home."

Immediately Cork and Diego were one either side of their wounded leader, trying to find ways to hold him up without doing more damage. Brandy held open the Lodging House door, her eyes still leaking large salty drops.

Once inside the warm House Spot sent Diego for liquor and Cork for bandages and water. Brandy positioned herself on his right side.

"We should just set you on the couch down here."

"No. The older boys shouldn't see this. Someone might take advantage."

"No! They would never-"

"This world can't be all parties love."

Brandy was silent then, letting him pull her closer to his side as they clambered awkwardly up the staircase. She let her eyes wander to the thick leather and thin chains around his neck. They'd always been obstructed by his shirt, and he must have taken them off before the fight with the Delancy brothers. They were an odd assortment of charms. A carved glass ring and a small key along with what looked like a small sharp black stone and a feather. They were other charms, but she felt heat climb up her face as she realized he was watching her…and it looked like she'd been staring at his bare tanned chest.

"Enjoying yourself?"

What should have been a breathless laugh was instead a wheeze as they reached the landing. Diego and Cork arrived then, relieving Brandy though she was loath to move from under Spot's arm.

They half carried him up the final staircase at the far end of the platform, the one Brandy had never seen anyone but Spot go up. At the top was a thick wooden door, the lock large and heavy metal.

"Brandy? Squeeze between Diego and the wall. You have to unlock the door."

The redhead did as she was told, eyes tearing up again when she discovered the King of Brooklyn was unconscious between his men.

"The key's around his neck."

Brandy's hand was shaking as she reached up to the leather thong with the key hanging off it. Spot's skin was cold, still damp and his hair still dripping as she took the necklace tentatively and unlocked the door.

It wasn't until the door swing open that she realized she'd stopped breathing. She took a shuddering gulp of air as the boys followed her in, setting Spot down on the bed.

The usually cocky, invincible teenager let out a moan, his teeth clenching.

"Go. He probably wouldn't want you here as I fix him up."

Brandy's voice was shaking, but something in it compelled the other newsies to nod, closing the door on their way out.

I looked around the room, trying to hold back sobs. I didn't usually cry like this. Then again, I had plenty of reasons to cry. I'd just been kidnapped and rescued, feared for the life of a man I loved only to have him return to me half alive. Emotional roller coaster ride.

The attic room of the Lodging House must be where all the Kings have lived, the walls covered with different newspaper clipping about the protests in Manhattan as well as various weapons. Brass and steel knuckles, switchblades, two or three canes other then Spot's classic. Pictures from magazines of people and places I didn't recognize. A paper sized still shot of a porcelain bathtub that made me smile.

He was so adorable sometimes.

The tears slipped past my stinging eyes again. He needed a doctor – the internal damage – I paced again, looking out the round window set into one end of the long narrow room.

This was ridiculous.

This was Brooklyn.

"Like the view?"

His voice was calm, if I didn't turn around I would be able to convince myself we were just in his room. And that he was fine. They were just in his room…alone…okay, so maybe that wasn't the best thing to think of.

I turned, giving him my best smile.

"It's a lovely room."

He just watched me, his eyes pulling me in.

"It's due to the company, I promise."

I felt the tingles start in my spine, the heat climbing my neck.

I turned back to the window, but the butterflies in my stomach told me he was still watching.

Waiting.

* * *

He was watching her, she couldn't meet his gaze anymore. The atmosphere in the room had changed, sending tingles up her arms as she gazed out at the foggy street.

"We were worried Brooklyn would have to live without you."

Brandy glanced at him, his steady blue gaze silently pushing the words from her lips.

"Worried I would have to live without you."

He moved in a split second, looming above her, but though she gasped she didn't move back, the window frame already a hair's breath away from her lower back.

"Brooklyn will always have me."

Spot brushed his fingers up her cheek and buired them in the silken hair by her temple. Brandy's eyes were half closed, her lips parted slightly as short gasps passed in the gap. He lowered his lips almost to hers, his whispers creeping over her face, making her shiver.

"You will always have me."

She melted against him, his arm wrapping around her waist as her own twined about his neck.

"Spot!"

It was like déjà vu.

Cork threw open the door, turning to look back down the stairs so he missed the two despairingly pulling apart.

"The new Bronx leader is here, he wants to introduce himself."

Spot had goose bumps on his bare skin, and Brandy was trying to stop her chest from heaving. Cork turned back from the staircase, his eyes going straight to his leader. Brandy was thankful, she felt like she was red as an apple.

"I wanted to send him off, but the Bronx...well, I just wasn't sure that you'd want them knowin bout everything going on at the moment."

Spot reached for a shirt, wincing barely.

"Well done Cork. Brooklyn must always be strong. Let's make this short."

Brandy finally had control of herself, and she moved deftly forward to help Spot arrange his shirt to hide all the wrappings.

"I'm coming with you."

His blue eyes flashed to the top of her head, his hands moving up to squeeze hers where they were fixing his collar.

"All right."

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**Review please my loves!**

**Gone crazy and Staying there,**

**Wolfy101**


	24. Bulldogs and Locked Doors

**To stave off beginning school blues my darlings! Finally!! ^_^**

**Chapter 23: Bulldogs and Locked Doors**

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They met in what used to be the Lodging House Secretary's office. Brandy had heard that the Leader before Spot had paid him off, the boys had run the place ever since.

The waiting boy was average height for a Newsie, maybe a little on the short side. His arms were long, the fingers thin and boney. He had a large smile – full of white teeth – that scrunched up his brown eyes. His head was almost shaved, and whiter then his face, usually covered by a grey hat.

"Took you awhile."

Spot's voice was gruff, brisk.

The smile faltered.

Spot just watched.

Cork stood in a corner, the hair flopping over his face suddenly twisted, disturbing.

The room was dim, and Brandy realized that this was different. This was the dark power struggle of the Newsie Kings. The intimidation and fear.

He'd wanted her to see it.

To understand.

The men ignored her, so she just leant against the doorframe, trying not to disturb them.

"There were…problems."

"Did you take care of them?"

"Yes." The smile was gone. "Bulldog. King of the Bronx."

He put out one boney hand toward Spot, but couldn't meet the man's electric eyes.

"Spot, King of Brooklyn."

They shook hands.

"Cork, my second."

Cork and Bulldog nodded to each other.

Then brown eyes slid to Brandy. Flickered to Spot, then slimed their way back.

"Brooklyn's Princess. Keep your eyes to yourself. Have you made an appearance before Cowboy in Manhattan yet?"

"No. I thought it best to come to you first."

"Hn."

"I take the same stand as my predecessor. Brooklyn and Bronx have never been close, but I desire no turf war or discrepancies with you."

"Hn."

"Bronx Problems will remain Bronx problems, and we'll keep our hands clean of any disagreements in Brooklyn's ranks."

"There won't be any."

Bulldog licked his lips nervously.

"Course not."

"You should scamper along to Manhattan now, Bulldog. Cowboy wants to see you."

"Yes Spot."

They shook hands once more, Spot watching emotionlessly as Bulldog skirted him to the door. His eyes looked once more to Brandy as she moved to let him pass, flitting over her quickly. A hand whipped out, slapping the back of his head sharply.

"Eyes to self." Cork growled.

The curly haired boy escorted him out to where Bulldog's best boys were loitering awkwardly in the hallway.

As soon as the front door closed behind them Spot let out a long breath, slouching onto his cane heavily with a wince. Brandy let out a whimper, moving quickly to his side, her hands fluttering worriedly around him.

"Are you alright?"

His breathing was shallow and pained.

"Close the door."

"Spot –"

"Close the door!"

Her hands stilled in surprise.

His voice dropped an octave, the tone getting softer.

"I don't want them to see this."

Brandy could feel it then, the desperate grasping at pride. The illusion of strength.

Her chest thumped painfully.

"Alright."

She moved quickly, practically shutting the door in Cork's face.

For some reason her heart was pounding.

She let out a soft sigh, closing her eyes, tired suddenly.

A hand covers hers on the knob.

She couldn't think as warm breath stirred the hair by her neck.

"S-Spot?"

His nose brushed the shell of her ear.

"I don't want them to see this."

Shivers raced up and down her spine. His hand slid up her from her hand, fingers ghosting over her wrist and gently pulling her hand from the doorknob, turning her to face him.

They were so close her nose almost bumper his lips.

Brandy couldn't move. She wasn't in control of her body, couldn't really focus on a specific thing other than him.

"I'm not stopping this time. Come hell or high water."

His smirk was amazing.

Then her eyes were closed, his lips dry and warm on hers.

His arms were around her waist, resting on her hips. Her hands rested on his biceps, feeling the contained strength of him through the coarse shirt.

It wasn't long; he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against hers. Brandy slowly opened her eyes, his genuine smile making her knees weak. She tried to get back her balance without disturbing their position, his soft laugh making her tingle.

"I'm here. I've got you."She let out a soft laugh, not minding how hard breathing had become.

"I know."

He moved forward slightly, kissing her tenderly again.

"I wasn't sure you'd want this."

His voice was breathless, almost giddy.

Warmth exploded through her, Brandy reached up to brush her fingers through his hair, then using a fistful of it to guide him closer for another chaste kiss.

"Its all I've been thinking about."

Fists pounded against the door, a worried voice coming through.

"Spot? Brandy? You alright?"

Brandy's breathless giggles made Spot's pound even harder, and he knew they were so close she could feel it.

"He thinks I've passed out of something, I bet you."

Spot was about to reply when her voice cut him off.

"He's OK. Just needs a minute before we tackle the steps again."

There was a muffled grumble from the other side of the door, then silence.

Spot raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a delightful squeeze.

"I need a minute?"

But the serious look in her eyes stopped him.

"They won't be happy will they?"

Spot let out a long sigh, brushing some of her hair out of her face. She turned her cheek into his palm.

"It could go either way. I'll talk to Cork first. He'll be a deciding point for the rest of them. Any dissention would hinge on him."

Her green eyes were pools of worry, and Spot had to be sure.

"Are you sure you want to do this? There's no turning back. I'm not going to let you go after this."

Brandy's eyes began to twinkle as she leaned forward again, her breath ghosting over and between his parted lips.

"Good."

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**Gone crazy and Staying there,**

**Wolfy101**


	25. The Cigar

**I got my wisdom teeth pulled out a few hours ago; all 4. ****Since vicodin doesn't appear to affect me mentally at all, I thought I'd give you a bit more.**

**Here you are! Thanks for reviewing!!**

**Oh, and here's a note to **_**Curly-Q**_** on** **the question about Chapter 11 (To Manhattan):**

"**He gets this gleam in his eye. He's so focused. The only time I've ever seen him that intense is-" if Spot hadn't stopped him it would have ended: "**_**when he's staring at you**_**."**

**Chapter 24: Poor Cigar**

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"Spot?"

The Brooklyn King turned his pale eyes, finding those of his most trusted friend.

"Heya Cork."

The docks were dark, Manhattan lights glittering across the black expanse of the water.

"She won't like your being out. You're not close to being fixed yet."

Spot lounged back on a crate, taking as long a drag on his cigar as his cracked ribs would let him.

"Lying down's uncomfortable."

The curly haired teen plopped down beside him, pulling out a smoke of his own with a derisive snort.

"I'm not surprised. That guy got in quite a few hits."

Steel blue eyes swept over to him.

"Lucky shots. It'd been a long night."

Another snort.

"Course. C'mon Spotty. This is me remember?"

The Newsie Lord was silent, watching his smoke curl up into the night. Only Cork new where the King's name originated. They'd been close friends even long before Spot was picked as the new leader.

"I thought I was gunna die."

Cork didn't say anything, the cigar clenched between his teeth.

"The water closed in over us, and he couldn't swim. He was holding onto me by the neck and I thought, 'This is it. I'm gunna die in this stupid river.' Then I got a good kick to his chest and my mouth was full of water and it was going down my throat and I couldn't see the surface and—"

Spot's words were running together. He stopped to suck on his cigar.

When he spoke again his voice was under control.

"I thought I was gunna die."

Cork's voice whistled through his teeth.

"That's worse than the knife fight in Harlem."

Spot nodded slowly, looking over the water with glazed eyes.

"Worse than Harlem."

"You know what that means?"

"Time to retire?"

"Ha! Never! Time to tell the boys you love her."

For the first time, Spot's cigar fell from his lips. Cork barely managed to catch it before it hit the wood beneath them.

"What?"

Cork began to laugh, his chocolate eyes kind.

"This is the first time you're behind the rest of the pack Spot, and I'm never gunna let you forget it."

He held out the Head Newsie's dropped smoke.

"Everyone else already knows."

Aft6er a second Spot took back his cigar, his face frozen in its shocked expression.

"And…its alright?"

Cork was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"It wouldn't be, but she wants you. And we'll never deny her what she wants. Plus, you're the best man among us. If you weren't, you wouldn't own Brooklyn."

He clapped the startled man on the back.

"When she's pregnant, THAT's the time to think about retiring."

The cigar hit the dock.

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I've written the next chapter, but I didn't want to tack it onto the end of this one. We're at the end.

**Gone crazy and Staying there,**

**Wolfy101**


	26. Fin

**I just want to thank everyone who came on this journey with me. **

**It's been a really long time huh? I'm sorry about that. **

**Anyway, I love you all dearly.**

**Well, this is it. **

**Please review my dears. 3**

****

Chapter 25: _Fin_ :')

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Spot took the steps three at a time, dropping his hat at the door. Brandy turned in surprise, letting out a shriek as he lifted her up, spinning the two of them around before letting her feet touch the ground.

"You shouldn't do that!"

He laughed at her, kissing her hands patiently.

"I've been healed for a month now. Stop worrying."

She smiled at him, a light blush on her cheeks as her hands in his tingled where his lips brushed.

"I'll always worry."

He smirked at her.

"Why? I'm invincible!"

She pulled a hand free and swatted him playfully.

"Let go, your ego is suffocating me dear."

He grinned evilly, catching the rouge hand and pulling her closer.

"In that case mouth-to-mouth is in order."

She laughed softly, letting her eyes drift closed as he launched a tender assault on her lips.

"Will you stop interrupting her work you lecher? Some of us like clean sheets once a week. And you and I came back for a reason, remember?"

Spot's shoulders slumped under her fingertips. Brandy let her head roll back and laughed out loud, the tinkling sound filling the room.

"Smooth one, Casanova."

She pulled out of Spot's grasp.

"Heya Diego."

The coconut boy grinned widely and gave her a little wave from the doorway as she turned back to her weekly cleaning spree of the boys' rooms.

"Hello Brandy. Sorry to steal him away."

She grinned back.

"Go right ahead. Heaven knows he never leaves on his own."

Spot smirked at her.

"It's not my fault you wouldn't let go this morning."

With a screech the woman turned in a flurry of auburn hair, throwing the pillow she was holding at him.

"Don't listen to a thing he says Diego!"

The boy laughed loudly, shaking his head.

"I'll get the papers for Harlem Spot; you meet me down stairs when you've placated our Queen."

"I didn't do anything!"

Diego turned, smiling contentedly. Life was good in Brooklyn again.

* * *

Spot glowered at Brandy as she studiously ignored him for the bed she was making.

He let out a plaintive sigh, then a louder one when she didn't even glance his way.

He slowly let a grin spread across his face, stalking up behind her.

"You shouldn't talk about us like that. Don't push it-"

She turned to lecture him just as he pounced, pinning her to the bed as she let out a surprised squeak.

"I love you."

He breathed the words against her neck, nosing his way down her jaw line.

"I love you, and I want to brag to the world that you're mine. That I'm the only one who kisses you, who holds. That I'm the luckiest wretch on the streets of New York."

Brandy gave up struggling, a breathless sigh escaping her as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Tears stung her eyes.

"I love you too. You have all of me, all the time. But the others have me too. When they cry, when they need to talk. Don't keep me in a box Spot. Don't alienate me from our family."

Spot stopped his ministrations, snapping his head up to look into her deep, powerful eyes. His arrogant response died on his lips when he saw the begging sadness in her emerald soul. She'd been so alone for so long. She deserved to be cherished, by everyone.

"I-I didn't think of it that way. I'm sorry."

He ground the apology out between his teeth, but she could tell his lightning eyes weren't angry.

"I love you."

He smiled softly, his heart swelling painfully in his chest.

"I love you too."

He lowered his lips to hers, moving his arm to cushion her head. She return his affections zealously.

"Diego's waiting."

She let out a soft whimper against his lips. He loved and hated it when he had to leave her like this. He hated leaving, but in true Spot fashion he loved her wanting him not to go.

"I know, but he is. It's only a little after 12."

She nipped his lower lip before pushing him off with a frustrated sigh.

"You enjoy torturing me."

He grinned at her as she straightened her dress.

"Trust me sweetheart, this is hurting me more then you."

She flushed adorably.

"Get going you scoundrel!"

He picked up his hat from the floor, taking his cane from where he tossed it on the landing.

"See you tonight?"

She looked back at him over her shoulder with a heart stopping smile.

"I suppose."

With a wink, the King of Brooklyn departed. His Queen kept smiling long after he was gone.

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Fin.

**Gone crazy and Staying there,**

**Wolfy101**


	27. Please Vote!

**HeyEveryone_! _**

**_Prey in Our Midst _hasbeen nominated for an award!! Please visit _.com/newsies/nyna_ to nominate and vote for this story if you liked it!**

**Thank you so much!!**

***Loves***

**Gone crazy and Staying there,**

**Wolfy101**


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